The moon hung low, veiled in wisps of cloud, casting the palace grounds in a ghostly silver glow.
Elira's heart pounded beneath her cloak as she crept through the narrow servant corridor, footsteps muffled on the stone floor. Behind her, the palace stood still—silent, unaware she was slipping away.
Just as Lady Seraphine had promised, the outer guards were drunk with celebration. A festival burned in the heart of the city, music drifting faintly through the air like a lullaby for the careless.
Elira pressed her back against a cold wall and whispered, "Come on, come on…"
Then—
A whisper.
A movement.
Seraphine appeared from the shadows, her emerald cloak now replaced with simple dark garb. She gave Elira a quick nod.
"East gate. Five seconds."
"I don't know whether to thank you or slap you," Elira muttered.
"You can do both—if you live."
Elira didn't wait for more. She darted toward the outer gate, where two guards stood slumped against their posts, snoring. A moment later, she was through.
And running.
Through the fields. Past the outer fences. Into the dark wild.
She did it. She was out.
No more royal cages. No more cursed glances. No more cryptic flirtations from men who turned into monsters.
She pulled her hood tighter, breath fogging as she pushed forward into the trees.
But just as the forest swallowed her whole—
She saw it.
A flicker of gold between the trees.
Then another.
And another.
Torches.
Not festival lanterns. Not travelers.
They moved like a patrol.
But not royal.
These soldiers bore no sigil. No banner. Their armor was mismatched, faces hidden beneath dark helms.
Elira froze behind a tree, squinting.
Then—
One of them lifted a strange weapon, made of polished black stone, glowing with runes.
They weren't searching the woods.
They were tracking something.
Me.
Elira gasped quietly, stepping back—
A branch cracked beneath her foot.
Every torch turned.
"They heard me."
Suddenly, a voice shouted something in a language she didn't recognize.
Then—they charged.
"No no no no—!"
She turned and ran.
The forest whipped past her in a blur. Thorns tore at her cloak, branches lashed her face, but she didn't stop. Her lungs burned, legs screamed, but the sound of boots thudding behind her pushed her forward.
Why are they after me?!
Then she remembered.
The mirror.
The name.
Elarion.
They weren't palace guards.
They were something worse.