Chapter 4 : Light and darkness
The first day of the year.
The capital of Dora woke beneath a thin veil of morning mist. The stone streets were still damp with the breath of night. Carriage wheels rolled through the city. Shopkeepers opened their doors. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted from the ovens along the street. The first day was always busier than usual. People hung red cloth before their houses. In the great square before the city gate, guards already stood as straight as statues. Farther away, the temple bells rang in slow, cold, clear peals, as if the whole city still wanted to believe this would be a blessed day.
Then the newspaper boy's cry tore the morning open.
"Fresh news! Fresh news!"
A thin boy ran down the street, clutching a stack of newspapers so thick it almost covered half his body. His breath whitened in the mist. His voice rang across the road.
"The crown prince has died of illness! The second prince has ascended the throne in his place!"
The crowd froze. A vegetable seller dropped a bundle of greens onto the ground. A coachman yanked hard on his reins, nearly driving his horse into a bakery stall. The boy did not stop. He drew in a breath and shouted louder, as if the second piece of news were the real knife.
"Second great news! Lady Rose, daughter of the Chancellor, will marry King Dogy one month from now!"
This time, the whole street broke apart.
Some people snatched at the newspapers. Some stood dead still. Some laughed because they thought they had heard wrong. Some lowered their heads and made the sign of prayer before their chests, though even they did not know whom they were praying for. The news spread beneath eaves, over carts, and through shop doors that had only just opened. It ran like fire meeting wind. The crown prince was dead. The second prince had become king. Rose would be queen. Three pieces of news fell upon the capital in a single morning.
Wonderful. The first day of the year. A day fit for selling bread, hanging red cloth, wishing one another peace, and learning that the fates of a few people had just been sealed like goods in a ledger.
Not far from the main street, a small tavern leaned against the corner of an old wall. Its wooden door had been open since morning. Inside, the smell of beer, tobacco smoke, and damp wood mixed together. Several merchants sat around a table. An off-duty guard had his head down beside a cup of wine. In the far corner sat a few commoners in rough clothes. They drank while keeping their ears turned toward the news.
"Did you hear?" a bearded man whispered. "The crown prince is dead."
"Dead of illness?" the man across from him frowned.
"Who knows?" The bearded man shrugged. "The palace says it, and the people listen."
Another man cut in.
"I think Lady Rose's matter is more worth talking about."
"The Chancellor's daughter?"
"Yes. She is going to be queen."
Laughter, sighs, and the clink of cups rose and tangled together. No one spoke too loudly. There were things people dared to laugh at while they were still rumors. Once they became royal decrees, laughter knew how to lower its own voice.
Outside the tavern, beneath the rotting eaves, two beggars sat against the wall. A cheap wine jug, almost empty, rested before them. One of them had a tangled beard and wild hair. He snorted and laughed. His eyes were red from drink.
"Did you hear that news? Old Dogy is nearly one hundred and forty this year, and he still wants to marry a girl who just turned eighteen."
He shook his head, then let out a hoarse laugh.
"An old ox eating young grass."
The other beggar tilted his head back and took a mouthful of wine. He wiped his mouth with his torn sleeve, then lowered his voice.
"That old man has been a dog for the Order of Light for all these years..."
He glanced around.
"Maybe he wants to feel young again."
The wild-haired beggar snorted. This time, he did not laugh. He looked down at the puddle near his feet. In the puddle, a piece of newspaper, crushed underfoot, floated in the mud.
"I only pity Lady Rose."
The other beggar fell silent.
"Even me..." The beggar lowered his head. His voice was rough with wine. "A low, filthy thing like me... even I cannot hate her, not even a little."
A very small silence fell beneath the eaves. Then the other beggar laughed softly, as if he feared the silence might sober him.
"The precious jewel of the whole kingdom... and now..."
He did not finish. Some sentences became dangerous once they were finished.
After a while, the wild-haired beggar leaned closer.
"Have you heard about the Sky Palace?"
"That palace of old Dogy the Beggar?"
"Yes." He nodded. His eyes shone with wine and rumor. "That entire palace was built with a type of spellstone called floatstone. It has been floating in the sky for more than a hundred years."
"Everyone knows that."
"But do you know what those mages are doing underneath it?"
The other beggar frowned.
"Mages?"
"Under the palace. And on that hill outside the capital." The beggar lowered his voice as if telling a forbidden story. "Two groups. One under the palace. One on the hill."
"For what?"
"Gathering magic."
The other man blinked.
"Gathering magic for what?"
The wild-haired beggar curled his mouth. He lifted a hand and pointed toward the misty horizon, toward a place no poor man like him would ever set foot.
"They say that on the wedding day, the whole Sky Palace will leave its old position."
"Leave?"
"Yes. Fly to that hill." He paused. "Then land."
The other beggar swallowed.
"Land where?"
The wild-haired beggar looked at him. The smile on his face twisted.
"Right on the edge of the World Curse."
The air beneath the eaves suddenly seemed a little colder. Wind passed through the street, making the piece of newspaper tremble in the puddle.
"It takes a whole month to gather enough magic to move that palace," the beggar continued. "One month. Exactly the time needed to prepare the wedding."
The other beggar no longer laughed.
"The rich really do know how to choose a wedding place."
"They do." The wild-haired beggar lifted the jug and shook it lightly. "Poor people marry in the backyard. A king marries by setting an entire palace at the edge of hell."
He drank the last drop.
"Fitting."
Inside the tavern, in a corner few people noticed, an old wooden sign hung on the wall. Two simple words had been carved into it:
The Crooked Cup.
From the outside, The Crooked Cup looked like nothing special. Rough wooden tables. A floor stained with wine. A few oil lamps burning dimly on the walls. But those who had lived long enough in the capital knew this place sold more than alcohol. It was a gathering point of the NoQuestions Guild.
The name sounded stupid. On purpose. Names that were too beautiful often made people ask questions. This guild hated questions.
They accepted any job, as long as the price was enough. Assassination. Theft. Surveillance. Protection. Information brokering. Delivering letters through forbidden districts. Disposing of bodies. False testimony. Even walking a cat for a stranger who feared his cat was lonely. In this guild, the dirtier the job, the higher the price did not always go. The stranger the job, the more excited people often became to pay for it.
On the wall behind the counter, an old motto had been carved into the wood.
"We do not ask who you are. We do not ask whether the job is right or wrong. As long as you pay the price... we will do it."
Below the words was the guild's emblem: a pair of sealed lips with a finger raised before them.
Silence.
That was the only law.
If one wanted to submit a job, one bought a cup of "No Questions." If one wanted to go down into the basement and choose a job, one also bought a cup of "No Questions." The tavern keeper would look at the buyer for a while. If he nodded, the door behind the counter would open. If he did not, it was best to finish the drink and disappear before someone else became curious on one's behalf. In the NoQuestions Guild, curiosity was a disease. This disease usually killed quickly.
The basement beneath The Crooked Cup was low and cold. Its stone walls had not been polished. Several small oil lamps hung from the ceiling. Weak yellow light fell over a long wooden table scarred with knife marks and burns. A skinny man sat behind it. Before him lay a thick ledger. He wrote down jobs and prices, but never names. Behind him, a large wooden board was covered with pinned slips of paper. Some were freshly written. Some had yellowed with age. Some had half their edges torn away, as if the person who had accepted the job had died before completing it.
In the corners of the room, several people in dark cloaks sat without speaking. On their chests was the emblem of sealed lips and a finger raised before the mouth. One sharpened a knife. One wiped a sword. One simply stared into the darkness, as if waiting for the darkness to answer.
But that morning, upstairs in the tavern, one man had not yet gone down into the basement.
He sat at the table near the window. The dim morning light touched only half his face. He was about twenty years old. His hair was cut very short. His hair and eyes were both black. A dark cloak hung loosely over his shoulders. The guild emblem was pinned to his chest. In front of him was a cup of wine already more than half empty.
His name was Alex.
He was a young member of the NoQuestions Guild. He was also a man who needed money so badly that even breathing had begun to feel expensive.
Alex sat still. He turned the cup in his hand and listened to the two beggars outside talk about Rose, Dogy, the Sky Palace, and the edge of the World Curse. He did not cut in. A smart man did not interrupt rumors when rumors were already crawling into his ears on their own.
He only thought of Rose.
Winning a lottery once was luck. Winning twice meant one should go light incense and thank the gods. Winning three times—if a person still did not know to bow his head and thank life, then he deserved to be struck by heaven.
Alex had been saved by Rose exactly three times.
The first time was five years ago. Back then, he had still been a scrawny boy in the slums south of the capital. He had gone almost two days without food. He had curled up behind an alley, so dizzy that even garbage looked like food. A carriage stopped nearby. A little girl stepped down, followed by a servant. The girl saw him. She did not ask who he was. She did not ask whether he deserved to be helped. She simply took a loaf of bread from her basket and handed it to him.
That was the first time Alex met Rose.
The second time was three years later. He was a little older then. He survived by doing things decent people did not want to hear about. One night, he was stabbed in a fight at the night market and collapsed in the middle of the road. When he woke, he was lying in a clean room inside the Chancellor's Mansion. White blankets. Warm water. The smell of medicine. A servant told him Lady Rose had seen him dying on the street and could not leave him there.
The third time was last year. That night, a swarm of darkbeasts broke through the western gate of the capital. The whole city fell into chaos. Alex had only recently joined the guild. He was badly wounded during the fighting and dragged into a temporary aid station. The person who walked from bed to bed to change bandages was Rose.
Three times.
Alex looked at his cup. A very faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"Winning the lottery three times..." he murmured. "A real miracle."
Then he slipped a hand into his coat pocket. The coins left inside were cold beneath his fingertips. They were too few for a man who still owed someone for medicine, owed himself for wine, and owed life for a girl about to be taken into the palace like an object wrapped in silk.
Alex's eyes moved around the tavern. Merchants laughed and talked. A guard lay drunk. Commoners discussed the royal family as if discussing the price of dried fish. In his eyes, all of them suddenly looked strangely alike.
He curled his mouth.
"Humankind... vile."
The words were not exactly meant for them. Nor were they exactly not meant for himself.
Alex set the cup down and stood. The wooden chair creaked behind him. He walked to the counter. The keeper of The Crooked Cup was a large, middle-aged man wiping a cup with an old gray cloth. He raised his head and looked at Alex.
Alex placed a few coins on the counter.
"Give me a cup of... No Questions."
The keeper's hand paused. He looked at Alex a while longer. He did not ask whether Alex wanted to submit a job or accept one. He did not ask whether Alex had enough money left. He did not ask why the young man's eyes looked colder than usual on the first morning of the year.
At last, the keeper nodded.
He took a dark bottle from the shelf behind him and poured the liquid into a small cup. The wine was black, almost like ink. Alex lifted it and drained it in one breath. Bitterness slid down his throat, hot and cold at the same time.
The keeper tilted his head toward the narrow door behind the counter.
"Follow me."
Alex stepped through that door. A stone stairway led downward. The noise of the tavern faded behind him. The smell of tobacco smoke gave way to damp stone and burning oil. When he set foot on the last step, the cloaked figures in the basement all raised their heads at once.
No one asked who he was. No one asked what he wanted. In this place, people asked only one question.
What's the price?
At the same time, outside the capital of Dora, the Chancellor's Mansion was still lit.
Almost no one had slept the night before. News of the wedding had spread through the mansion since midnight. It should have been joyful news. Lady Rose would become queen. The servants should have offered congratulations. The maids should have been busy preparing dresses. The kitchen should have lit its fires early to cook fine dishes. But inside that mansion, there was no laughter. Only the very soft sound of footsteps in the corridors, doors opening and closing, and whispers swallowed before they could become sentences.
Rose was still awake.
She sat by the window in the large room at the end of the corridor. The oil lamp on the table burned low. Weak light fell across the pale carpet. Outside the window, the sky was slowly brightening. Mist blurred the garden behind the mansion. The trees stood silent after the long night. Farther away, where she could not see, the capital had probably begun reading the newspaper about her life.
Behind Rose were Elina and Mira. Neither had slept either. Elina stood near the table, gripping a handkerchief so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Mira sat on a small chair. From time to time, she looked at Rose, then lowered her head again, as if afraid that even her gaze might hurt Rose more.
For a long time, no one spoke. At last, Elina said softly:
"My lady... will you truly become queen?"
Rose did not turn around.
"The news has already spread through the capital." Her voice was very soft. "So it must be true."
Mira bit her lip.
"But you do not want it."
Rose smiled. The smile was so light it almost stopped being a smile.
"This was never mine to decide."
She looked out at the garden. A brief thought crossed her mind. If she left this place. If she went far away. If she ran before the wedding day. If there was still a place in the world where royal decrees could not reach her.
The thought came very quickly.
And vanished just as quickly.
Rose tightened her fingers around the hem of her dress. She thought of the servants in the mansion. She thought of Elina. Mira. Rolan, sleeping outside her door like some small abandoned beast. She thought of the Chancellor, the man who had raised her for eighteen years with gentleness and kindness.
"In any case..." Rose whispered, as if reminding herself. "Many people are relying on me."
No one answered.
Outside in the corridor, just before her door, Rolan slept against the wall. He was curled beneath a thin blanket, his head tilted to one side. Clouded white ice still covered his eyes and nose, leaving only his mouth exposed. From time to time, he shifted slightly, but he did not leave his place before Rose's door. As if simply lying there would keep the world from opening that door.
The door moved softly. Rolan woke with a start. He lifted his head. His breathing was still uneven.
"Rose... Rose...?"
Rose stood before him. She had already put on a thin cloak. Elina and Mira followed behind her.
"I want to see Father."
Rolan stared blankly for a moment, then hurried to his feet. He did not ask. Perhaps he did not understand. Perhaps he understood in some deep way that did not need words. He simply followed her.
The long corridor was lined with oil lamps. Pale yellow light spread over the cold stone floor. Servants lowered their heads as Rose passed. No one spoke loudly. No one dared look at her for too long.
Before the Chancellor's study, Rose stopped. She knocked softly.
A deep voice sounded from inside.
"Come in."
The study was still lit. The Chancellor sat behind a large wooden desk. Before him, stacks of papers had been arranged so neatly they almost looked cold. A letter opener lay parallel to the edge of the desk. Its thin, clean blade reflected the oil lamplight in a small streak.
Rose had once thought her father was simply someone who could not bear disorder.
The Chancellor raised his head when he saw her. For a moment, the sternness on his face softened.
"Rose..."
Rose stepped closer to the desk.
"Do I have to enter the palace next month?"
The Chancellor was silent.
That silence was very short. But to Rose, it felt longer than the whole night before.
At last, he stood and walked around the desk. His movements were still slow and proper. As they were every day. As if the whole world only needed to be arranged into a straight line, and then pain, too, would know how to lie quietly at the edge of a table.
"Not next month," he said.
Rose lifted her head.
The Chancellor looked at her. His eyes were very warm. So warm that Rose suddenly felt something catch in her throat.
"This morning."
Elina drew in a very soft breath behind her. Mira stood frozen. Rolan tilted his head slightly, like an animal that had just heard a cage door close.
Rose needed several seconds to understand.
"But..." she said. "Was there not still one month?"
The Chancellor raised a hand and adjusted the edge of the cloak on her shoulder. His hand was still warm, as always. Only his fingers were a little stiff.
"One month is the time for the capital to prepare the wedding," he said. "Not the time for you to remain here."
Rose looked at him.
"Father..."
The Chancellor turned his face away a little. The movement was very quick. So quick that Rose saw nothing clearly. She only saw his shoulder tense. She saw his shadow stretch long across the floor. She saw his hand rest against the edge of the desk and tighten slightly.
"I am sorry."
His voice was still deep. Still warm. But something was caught inside it, like a hairline crack across smooth ice.
Rose did not know what to say. She wanted to ask why. She wanted to ask whether there was another way. She wanted to ask whether he was afraid too. But all those questions died in her throat.
The Chancellor turned back. His face had returned to normal. So normal it hurt more.
"There are things that, the longer they are delayed," he said, "the more people they hurt."
He laid a hand on Rose's hair. Very gently.
"Do not be afraid."
The words sounded like comfort.
They also sounded like a command.
That same morning, the carriage was already waiting before the gate of the Chancellor's Mansion.
The palace escort had not arrived unexpectedly. Everything had been prepared in advance. Black-painted carriages. Royal banners. Guards in bright armor. Servants lined both sides of the path. Rose's small trunks had already been tied to the carriage. Elina and Mira were allowed to go with her. No one said why. No one asked why. That morning, the Chancellor's Mansion looked like a cleaner branch of the NoQuestions Guild.
Rose stepped down the stairs. She wore a pale long dress. Her white hair fell down her back and caught the morning light in a soft silver line. Her pale pink eyes were a little red from a sleepless night, but she did not cry.
The Chancellor walked beside her. He did not hand her to someone else. He brought her to the carriage door himself. He lifted the curtain himself. He checked the step himself.
Everything was gentle.
Everything was in its proper order.
Rolan ran from the corridor just as Rose set one foot on the carriage step.
"Rose!"
His voice broke.
"Rose... Rose!"
A guard immediately stepped forward to block him.
"Step back."
Rolan still tried to move closer. He could not see the way ordinary people did, but he still knew where Rose was. He always knew where Rose was.
"Rose..."
The hilt of a sword struck him hard in the chest.
Rolan was thrown backward and rolled down the steps. Several servants gasped. Elina raised a hand to cover her mouth. Mira's face went pale. Rose turned sharply.
"Rolan!"
The guard looked down at him. His voice was cold.
"By palace order, only Lady Rose and her two maids are permitted to accompany the escort."
Rolan pressed a hand to the ground and tried to stand, but the pain made him collapse. Still, he forced his head up toward Rose.
"Rose..."
Rose gripped the edge of the carriage curtain. She wanted to step down. She truly wanted to. But the Chancellor's hand settled lightly on her shoulder.
Not strongly.
Only enough to hold her there.
"Rose," he called.
She turned to look at him.
The Chancellor said nothing more. He only looked at her with the eyes of a father in pain. At least, Rose believed that was what they were.
At last, she released the curtain.
The carriage door closed.
The wooden latch sounded softly.
A very small sound.
But Rolan heard it.
The escort left the Chancellor's Mansion in the morning mist. The wheels rolled over the dirt road leading toward the capital. Two lines of mounted guards rode on either side. Their armor touched lightly with each rhythm. The Chancellor stood before the gate. He watched until the carriage vanished beyond the trees.
Only long after that did he turn away.
Rose did not see whether he cried. Through the small gap in the curtain, she saw only his back, so straight it looked lonely.
When Dago arrived, the gate of the mansion had almost returned to stillness.
He rode very fast. The white horse's breath rose in bursts through the mist. His cloak had not been fully fastened. His hair was slightly disheveled. In his hand was a bloodrose.
The flower was still fresh. Its petals were deep red, beautiful as if they had been cut from a wound.
Dago jumped down before the horse had fully stopped.
"Where is Rose?"
No one answered at once.
A servant lowered his head. His voice trembled.
"My lady... has already left, Your Highness."
Dago stood still.
"Left?"
"The Chancellor personally escorted my lady to the palace early this morning."
Dago looked at the gate. He looked at the road ahead. He looked at the carriage tracks still pressed into the damp earth.
"Was there not still one month?"
The servant lowered his head even more.
"This servant... does not know."
Dago said nothing.
A very light wind passed by. The petals of the bloodrose in his hand trembled. He looked at the flower as if only now remembering he was holding something meant for someone else.
Then his fingers tightened.
The thorns pierced his palm.
Blood seeped out.
Red over red.
It was impossible to tell where his blood ended and where the color of the flower began.
Dago still stood motionless. His face did not twist. He did not shout. He did not cry. Only his eyes changed. Something inside them broke, then sank very deep.
Perhaps his heart was bleeding too.
But hearts had no thorns for others to see.
A servant called softly.
"Your Highness..."
Dago raised his head.
The servant fell silent at once beneath his gaze. It was not the look of a man who had simply lost a gift. It was the look of a man who had begun to think of things he should not think.
Rose's carriage passed through the outskirts and entered the forest road leading toward the capital. Tall trees closed overhead. Morning sunlight was cut into thin pieces and fell across the ground. The air in the forest was damper and colder than it had been on the main road. The sound of wheels grinding over small stones, the beat of hooves, and the light clash of armor rose in a steady rhythm, almost like a lullaby.
Inside the carriage, Rose sat beside the window. Elina and Mira sat across from her. All three were silent.
After a while, Mira tilted her head slightly.
"My lady..."
Rose looked at her.
Mira glanced outside, then lowered her voice.
"Did you hear something?"
Elina immediately looked through the curtain. Outside, there was only forest. Guards. Thin mist. Wheels. Hooves.
"Hear what?" Elina asked.
Mira shook her head.
"I do not know. It sounded like horses far away."
Rose went still. For an instant, she thought she heard a very soft call.
Rose...
She could not tell whether it was a human voice. She could not tell whether it was the wind. She could not tell whether it was a memory from somewhere striking the wall of the carriage.
She lifted the curtain and looked behind them. The forest road stretched into the mist. No one was there. Only carriage tracks and trembling branches, as if something had just passed through.
A mounted guard riding beside the carriage turned back.
"Does my lady need anything?"
Rose let the curtain fall.
"No."
The carriage continued.
Elina shifted closer to her.
"My lady... if we now..."
She stopped.
Rose understood what she wanted to say.
Run away.
No one dared say those two words aloud. Inside this carriage, even breathing seemed to belong to the palace.
Rose shook her head lightly.
"Where would we run?" she said softly. "What could the three of us do?"
Elina clenched her hands.
"We could try."
"And what about everyone at the mansion?" Rose looked down at her hands. "What about Rolan? What about Father?"
Mira lowered her head.
"Or..." Her voice was very small. "My lady could pretend to be dead."
Elina and Rose both looked at her.
Mira swallowed. Her face flushed at her own thought.
"I only... I only said it."
Rose looked at Mira. Then she laughed very softly. It was not joy. Only a small sound falling from her chest.
"Pretending to die..." she murmured. "That sounds easier than continuing to live."
No one laughed with her.
Outside, a horse suddenly gave a soft neigh. The guard beside the carriage pulled on his reins. The other horses also began to grow uneasy. Their ears rose. Their nostrils flared. Their hooves struck harder against the ground.
The captain of the escort raised his hand.
"Stop."
The escort slowed.
The forest went silent.
So silent that the last turn of the wheels sounded like something being swallowed.
A guard at the rear turned toward the bushes.
"There is movement."
"Only a wild animal," another said.
No one believed him.
A very faint sound of steel rang out in the distance. So far away it could almost have been imagined.
Clang.
Rose sat up straight.
Elina looked at her.
"My lady?"
The sound vanished.
Then, from deep within the forest, a strange noise rolled toward them. It was the beating of countless wings, like a rainstorm rushing through the canopy.
The captain's face changed.
"Formation!"
A guard shouted.
"Darkbeasts!"
The sky above the trees darkened.
A swarm of darkbats burst out of the mist. They did not look like ordinary bats. Their wings were long and torn, like pieces of darkness ripped apart. Their eyes burned red. Their claws were curved and black, gleaming in the morning. They circled above the escort, so numerous that the light seemed to be bitten into pieces.
According to the Order of Light, darkbeasts were creations of Dark, a natural disaster for humankind. What the full truth was, commoners did not know. Guards did not know. Even mages were not certain they knew. People only knew one thing: when darkbeasts appeared, they targeted humans.
And humans alone.
The first darkbat dived.
Clang!
Its claws struck a steel shield and scattered sparks. The guard was pushed half a step back. The darkbat screeched. The others immediately plunged down like black rain.
"Protect my lady!"
The guards drew their swords. Several mages in the escort raised their hands and chanted short spells. Pale blue magic circles opened around the carriage. Ancient runes spun like gears of light.
"Protective magic array!"
A thin magic barrier wrapped around the carriage.
At that moment, the swarm struck.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
Bodies of darkness exploded against the barrier and broke into black ash. But above them, there were too many darkbats. They dived and rose again. Their wings beat through the mist like a living storm.
A mage raised his staff. A burning red magic circle opened above his head.
"Fireball!"
Fireballs shot into the air. They burst among the darkbats. Flame lit the whole forest. Darkbeast corpses fell like fragments of coal.
Inside the carriage, Elina and Mira held each other tightly. Rose gripped the edge of the seat and looked through the gap in the curtain. Outside, steel, fire, and darkness whirled together. A guard's shoulder was torn open by claws. A horse collapsed. A mage coughed blood while chanting, yet still held the array around the carriage.
Then a terrified neigh rang out.
One darkbat flew too low. Its claws sliced across the neck of the horse pulling the carriage. Blood sprayed over the reins.
The horse reared.
"Hold the reins!"
The driver shouted, but it was too late. The other horses panicked too. They ripped the carriage from the escort's formation and charged straight ahead.
"My lady!"
The carriage shook violently. Elina slammed her shoulder against the wall. Mira screamed. Rose was thrown from her seat, her hand striking the wooden floor. Outside, the voices of the guards began to fall behind.
"After the carriage!"
"Someone hold the reins!"
The forest swallowed those sounds.
The carriage rushed deeper along a narrow path. Branches whipped against its sides. The wheels ground over stones, slid across wet leaves, then struck hard against a root rising from the ground.
Crash!
The whole carriage tilted to one side. One horse slipped. The reins tangled. The carriage overturned, skidding across the earth before slamming into the base of a tree.
Boom!
Everything turned over.
For several seconds, no one could speak.
Elina was the first to crawl up. Blood ran from a cut on her forehead.
"My lady!"
Rose pushed herself up. Her whole body ached.
"I am fine... Mira?"
"I... I am fine..."
Mira held her arm. Her face was white.
Elina kicked hard against the warped carriage door and pulled Rose out. Mira crawled after them. The three of them stood in the middle of the forest. The carriage lay overturned behind them. The horses had broken free. They dragged tangled reins behind them and vanished into the trees. There were no more guards. No more magic. Only wind moving through the canopy.
A wrong kind of silence.
Mira looked around.
"Run..."
The three of them fled into the forest.
Dry leaves broke beneath their feet. Branches whipped their faces. Their breathing came fast and broken. Rose had never run like this before. Her dress caught on thorns. Elina held her hand and pulled her forward. Mira ran behind them, glancing back from time to time.
A black shadow swept overhead. Torn wings beat between the branches. A darkbat had followed them.
"Faster!" Elina pulled Rose.
Rose ran a few more steps, then tripped over a root. She fell onto the wet leaves.
"My lady!"
Elina turned back to pull her up.
The darkbat folded its wings and dived.
"Look out!" Mira screamed.
Elina shoved Rose aside. Black claws raked across her shoulder.
"Ah!"
Blood sprayed.
Elina staggered, but she still stood in front of Rose. Mira supported her. The darkbat beat its wings violently, preparing to dive again.
At that moment, a sound came from the bushes beside them.
It did not sound like a person running.
It sounded like something that had crawled, stumbled, fallen, and then kept following with everything left in its body.
Rose turned her head.
A figure burst out of the undergrowth.
"Rolan!" Mira cried.
Rolan ran like a madman. The thin blanket was gone. Mud clung to his clothes. His breathing was hoarse and ragged. He did not stop. He called no one except a name torn apart in his throat.
"Rose..."
Then he threw himself straight at the darkbat.
Both his arms locked around its body. The darkbeast screamed. Its wings thrashed wildly. Rolan was flung to the ground, but he still clung to it. He opened his mouth and bit hard into the darkbeast's neck.
The sound that came out did not sound human.
The darkbat struggled violently. Its claws tore across Rolan's shoulder. Its wings struck the ground and sent dry leaves flying. Rolan did not let go. A few seconds later, the darkbeast's body began to crack. Pieces of darkness broke away like crushed ash. It screamed one last time, then dissolved into the air.
Rolan rolled to one side.
On his neck was a black bite mark.
Rose rushed to him and knelt beside him.
"Rolan!"
Rolan gasped for breath. Both his hands dug into the earth. His mouth trembled.
"Rose..."
Mira stared at the bite on his neck. The blackness around the wound was spreading, slowly but clearly, like blood vessels being dyed with darkness. Her face went pale.
"A darkbeast bite..." she whispered. "It will spread."
Rolan suddenly convulsed.
"Aaa!"
His body arched, then slammed hard against the ground. His hands clawed through the dry leaves. Dirt filled the spaces beneath his nails. The black mark on his neck spread into thin lines and crawled down his shoulder.
"Rose...!"
He gasped. His voice broke with pain.
"Rose..."
Rose held him.
"I am here. Rolan, I am here."
He screamed again. His whole body shook. Rose felt him burn hot and cold at the same time, like something was tearing him apart from within.
"What do we do?" Rose turned to Mira. "Mira, how do we save him?"
Mira stood frozen for several seconds. Then she bit her lip hard.
"A darkbeast bite..." Her voice trembled. "Only the power of Light can purify it."
Elina leaned against a tree, one hand pressed to her wounded shoulder. Blood soaked her sleeve red. She looked at Rolan writhing in Rose's arms, and tears spilled from her eyes.
Rose lowered her head and held Rolan tighter.
"No... no..."
She had once thought she understood fear. Last night, when she heard of the wedding. This morning, when she stepped into the carriage. When Rolan was struck down before the mansion gate. But she had been wrong. All those fears still had a shape. This fear did not. It did not stand before her. It was in her arms. It was convulsing, calling her name, and being eaten by darkness piece by piece.
From above, among the darkened branches, three black shapes dived.
Three darkbats.
Mira saw them first. She trembled, but still stepped forward. Elina straightened as well. Blood ran down her shoulder, but she still stood before Rose.
"Stay back!" Elina said.
Mira spread her arms beside her.
Those two girls were weak. Far too weak. One was wounded. One was so afraid her lips had gone white. If the three darkbeasts struck, they would die very quickly.
But they still stood there.
As if their bodies were a door.
As if, while a single breath remained in them, they would not let the darkness touch Rose.
Rose looked at them. She looked at Elina bleeding. She looked at Mira trembling. She looked at Rolan in her arms, the blackness still crawling along his neck.
Something broke inside her chest. It was not anger. It was not courage. It was not quite despair. It was the moment a person understood that if she did nothing, the people who loved her would die in her place.
"Don't..."
Rose's voice was very small.
The three darkbats folded their wings and fell like black arrows. Elina and Mira rushed forward too. Rose reached out toward them.
"Don't!"
It was too late.
Rose tightened her hold on Rolan. She looked at the blackness on his neck. She looked at the blood on Elina's shoulder. She looked at Mira's trembling back beneath the darkbeasts' claws.
"Do not take them from me..."
A burst of light erupted from her body.
It was not lamplight. It was not fire. It was not the magic the mages had used outside. It was so white it almost had no color. It poured out like water breaking through a dam. Lines of light spread across the ground, climbed the tree trunks, then swept through the air.
The three darkbats diving toward them screamed in agony.
"Kiiii!"
Their bodies burned in the light. Their black wings curled inward. Their claws broke apart into ash. Within seconds, the three darkbeasts dissolved, leaving only black fragments drifting through the white radiance.
The whole forest blazed with light.
Elina and Mira turned back in shock. Rose was still kneeling on the ground, holding Rolan in her arms. Her white hair floated gently in the light. Each strand caught a cold silver glow. Her pale pink eyes were wide open, but empty, as if she had not yet understood what she had done.
The light touched Elina's shoulder. The bleeding wound stopped. The blood did not vanish, but the red flow ceased. The cut closed very slowly, leaving behind a thin red line like thread.
Mira stared. Her legs weakened.
"My lady..."
Rose did not hear her.
The light continued to pour over Rolan. The black mark on his neck trembled like a living thing being pulled out of flesh. The thin black lines spreading down his shoulder suddenly stopped. Then they drew back toward the bite, bit by bit, like smoke being drawn into an invisible crack.
Rolan exhaled sharply. His convulsions eased. His fingers loosened from the damp earth. The blackness on his neck faded, broke into small wisps of smoke, and vanished in the light.
Rose looked down at him.
"Rolan..."
Her voice was so fragile it seemed about to break.
Rolan did not open his eyes. He only breathed. Very weakly. But he was alive.
Then Rose looked down at her hands.
One hand was still wrapped in soft white light. The other was covered by a thin darkness that curled around it like smoke.
Light and darkness.
Two things that should have been complete opposites existed at the same time on her body.
Elina forgot her pain. Mira forgot her fear. The two of them looked at Rose as if they were seeing a question the whole world had never been prepared to answer.
Rose parted her lips. She wanted to say something. She wanted to ask what was happening. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to tell them not to look at her like that.
But no words came out.
The light began to fade. The darkness dissolved as well. Rose's body went limp. She collapsed beside Rolan.
"My lady!"
Elina and Mira rushed forward to catch her.
The forest darkened.
The wind stopped.
Black ash drifted in the air, then fell very slowly. Somewhere far away, a horse neighed. Very far. Very brief. Then came the sound of metal striking metal, thin as a fingernail tapping a blade.
Then everything went silent.
Elina held Rose. Mira knelt beside Rolan. Both of them were panting. No one understood what had just happened. No one knew how many of the escort were still alive. No one knew why the swarm of darkbeasts had appeared at that exact moment. No one knew what had happened on the road behind them.
In the forest that had just been touched by light, the silence grew thick enough to cut.
Then, from somewhere among the trees, a laugh sounded.
"Zehehehe..."
Not loud.
Not close.
But enough for the whole forest to hear.
Elina snapped her head up. Mira held her breath. Rose had fainted, so she heard nothing.
The laugh sounded for one more tiny beat.
Then it disappeared.
The forest went silent again.
As if it, too, was pretending it had never heard anything.
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