A low groan escaped Elara’s throat.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  Cold metal pressed against her back.

  Her wrists throbbed—bound tight.

  Her vision blurred as lantern-light swayed above her.

  Where…?

  The memory slammed into her.

  The disguised man.

  The needle.

  Darkness.

  “Elara…?” a voice whispered faintly through her daze.

  She turned her head weakly.

  Behind the rumbling tanker, through the swinging lantern shadows—

  A horse.

  A rider.

  Ashren.

  Her heart lurched.

  He was chasing them.

  “No…” she tried to speak, but the gag muffled her voice. “Ash… run…”

  But he didn’t hear.

  Because Ravenn had already noticed.

  The Night Hunter leader slowed his black armored horse, raising a fist.

  The entire convoy braked, metal grinding against dirt.

  One of the Hunters lifted his rifle.

  “Target approaching. Permission to fir—”

  “Lower it.”

  Ravenn’s voice cut like steel.

  The soldier hesitated. “But sire—”

  “I said lower it.”

  Reluctantly, the rifle dipped.

  The mage whispered, “He’s alone. Unarmed. Weak. Why waste time?”

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  Ravenn smirked.

  “Because he keeps coming back.”

  A dangerous curiosity lit his eyes.

  “And I want to see why.”

  The convoy came to a stop.

  Ashren pulled the horse forward, breath ragged, eyes blazing with fury and desperation.

  Ravenn turned in his saddle, watching him approach with an almost bored expression—yet something sharp flickered beneath.

  “Well, well…” Ravenn drawled.

  “You really are determined to die tonight.”

  Elara shook her head violently, eyes wide, pleading with Ashren.

  Go back. Please. RUN.

  Ashren ignored everything—

  the tankers, the rifles, the mage, the monsters stirring in the trees…

  He only saw her.

  “Elara!”

  His voice cracked as he pulled the horse right in front of Ravenn.

  Ravenn watched him with cold amusement.

  “You made it,” he said softly.

  “I didn’t expect the boy from a dirt village to chase us into the night.”

  Ashren’s glare hardened.

  “Let her go.”

  Ravenn chuckled.

  “Bold. Stupid. Predictable.”

  He leaned forward slightly.

  “You do understand you’re surrounded by armed Hunters… and two

  tankers with mounted rifles… and a mage who could turn you into ash with

  a flick of his fingers?”

  Ashren swallowed once—but didn’t back down.

  “I don’t care.

  Elara is not yours.”

  Ravenn’s smirk faded.

  For a moment, the forest held its breath.

  Even the monsters seemed to pause.

  “You speak,” Ravenn said slowly, “as if you have the right to decide anything about her.”

  Ashren’s fingers tightened around the reins.

  “I’ll fight you if I have to.”

  One of the Hunters burst out laughing.

  “Fight? You? Look at him! He doesn’t even have a weapon—”

  Ravenn lifted a single finger.

  Silence.

  His gaze locked onto Ashren, evaluating him like a puzzle.

  “You followed us.”

  “You rode alone into the night.”

  “You didn’t flee even when you saw the whole party waiting for you.”

  Ravenn turned slightly, looking at Elara—whose eyes shook with panic and fury.

  Then back to Ashren.

  “…You’re interesting.”

  He nudged his horse forward until he was just a few feet away.

  Then he whispered:

  “So show me, boy.”

  Ashren stiffened.

  “Show me why you think you deserve to stand in front of her.”

  Elara gasped behind her gag.

  Ravenn leaned back, raising his hand—

  and the Hunters moved aside, forming a wide circle around them.

  A killing ground.

  A stage.

  “For her,” Ravenn said softly,

  “fight.”

  Ashren’s breath hitched—

  but then Ravenn lifted a lazy hand.

  “Not with me,” he added.

  A cruel smile tugged at his lips.

  “Weaklings aren’t worth my blade.”

  He turned his head slightly.

  “Vorrek.”

  Vorrek stepped forward—massive, iron-club on his back, armored wrists gleaming.

  He cracked his knuckles, eager.

  Ashren felt the ground tremble under the man’s steps.

  Ravenn continued, voice smooth as ice:

  “Show him what happens to boys who chase princesses they can’t protect.”

  Elara shook her head violently, muffled cries spilling behind the gag.

  Ashren’s heart thundered—fear, anger, helpless resolve all mixing into fire.

  Ravenn’s gaze sharpened.

  “Let me see,” he whispered,

  “what you’re willing to bleed for.”

  To be continued…

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