The girl lay sprawled across the cold, rocky ground. She was utterly drained from using her power—never before had she pushed her limits so far. Desperately, she listened to Milo's heartbeat and breathing as they grew fainter and slower, until they stopped entirely, returning him to his original, cold and lifeless state. The boy didn't move after that—he simply lay there, as if waiting for something.
It took Daiya several long minutes just to sit up and take in the damage. She was grateful to see Berald's corpse lying face-down, his face mercifully hidden from view. A large chunk of the man's back was missing, making for a gruesome sight. What remained of Lord Möllnar was even harder to look at. In the puddle of blood, closer inspection revealed floating bits of flesh and organs, and the sludge grew fouler by the minute.
The ground sloped downward toward Milo, and over time, thin red rivulets began trickling in his direction."We're leaving," Daiya groaned, forcing herself to her feet before the sickening fluid could reach her love.
The fortress halls echoed with emptiness. The guards and every member of the household had reverted to the carved wooden logs they had truly been. They were a sad sight, strewn across the chambers and courtyards. The wall had been nearly finished, yet now there was no one left to admire it—or to benefit from it.
Daiya wondered if she could have defeated Berald and Lord Sylun without the advantage of surprise. Likely not. Had either man known who they were truly dealing with, she probably wouldn't have stood a chance.
She set about finding the treasury, determined to claim the silver she'd been promised. After all, they wouldn't be needing it anymore—she reasoned fairly.
After a long search, she finally found the vault in the fortress's lowest level. The key lay on the floor amid a pile of clothes—left behind when the golems guarding it lost their human forms.
Lord Sylun had clearly not been as wealthy as Gert claimed, but the treasury wasn't completely empty either. The construction must have drained much of the keep's reserves. Daiya couldn't carry everything she found down there, so she took only two pouches of silver—one for herself, and one for Milo.
She was just about to leave when something caught her eye: a dagger, its hilt made of translucent mooncrystal, etched with winding patterns. The double-edged blade looked sharp enough to cut through rope—or the throat of an inconvenient elf. Unable to resist, Daiya took the weapon.
"That should do," she muttered to herself. "Unless..." She turned toward Milo and saw that his clothes were tattered and soaked through with his own silver-hued blood and Berald's now-browning one."We need to find you something decent to wear," she told him. She was beginning to grow used to talking to a corpse.
Thankfully, the fortress had ample clothing to spare—a shirt and pants to replace the ruined ones, and even a pair of elegant deerskin boots from the lord's chambers. Seizing the opportunity, Daiya washed herself and changed as well. She slid the new dagger into her belt and threw a simple cloak over her shoulders—partly to ward off the cold, but just as much to shield herself from prying eyes.
No one was disturbing them for now, but she had no illusions this peace would last.
Before they left, she found a map and a leather backpack. They were headed toward the gates when she heard movement—a soft rustle, as if someone had ducked behind a nearby structure.
"Wait here," she told Milo, drawing her dagger as she crept toward the sound... and rounded the corner.
"Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me!" A familiar figure suddenly dropped to the ground before her, groveling in the dirt.
"Gert?" Daiya raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why—"
It took her a moment to realize the full weight of what had happened. But once it hit her—once she remembered who had led them into this entire disaster—rage flared white-hot in her chest.
She bent down, grabbed Gert by the collar, and shook him violently.
"We nearly died because of you! How many were there?! How many poor souls have you brought here to be that monster's dinner?! How many?!"
"I just—I had to make a living somehow, and… and Lord Sylun always paid well—" Gert began, but that only made Daiya angrier. She pressed the dagger to the elf's throat.
"Try again, you pathetic wretch," she hissed.
"Okay! Fine! I surrender! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for everything!" the man wailed. "Just don't hurt me!"
"Tsk." Daiya let him go with a growl. The trader scrambled away on all fours. She raised the dagger, ready to throw it. She wasn't especially skilled with weapons, but in her village, everyone had learned the basics—whether they were simple elves or young priestesses-in-training. And Daiya, who spent far too much time alone, had developed quite the fondness for knife throwing.
She took aim at the retreating man and was just about to let the blade fly when—
"Everyone stay right where you are!" someone shouted from a distance.
Within seconds, a small group of armed figures surrounded Daiya and Gert, hands on their sword hilts. For a moment, Daiya could only stare in disbelief. Then she sighed and lowered her dagger.
She couldn't be this unlucky again... could she?
"Surrender!" – continued the speaker, now from closer by. The voice was neither too high nor too deep, just as the figure it belonged to was neither too tall nor too short. They wore men's clothing and had cropped hair, but there was something delicate and feminine in their face. It was impossible to tell their gender at all.
"Who are you?" – the girl shouted back. "I have no intention of fighting you, but this man is a murderer," she pointed at Gert. "And I would very much like to make sure he doesn't live to see the morning."
The man crouching on the ground flinched at her words. "She's lying!" – he claimed fearfully to the armed people. "She's the one who attacked me! I haven't done anything wrong!"
"Yeah, sure, you little rat…" – Daiya began, but before she could raise the dagger again, she felt the tip of a sword poke her in the back.
"Hey, little girl," someone addressed her from behind—presumably the owner of the sword. "Don't do anything reckless, or you might get hurt. Drop your weapon and put your hands somewhere visible!"
Daiya really wasn't in the mood for more drama that day, as she was tired and angry. She couldn't have summoned her power again even if she tried, and it didn't help that a previously unknown member of the group appeared, dragging a struggling Milo behind him. The boy's body tried to return to the spot where he had been commanded to wait, but the armed man clearly wasn't allowing it.
"Settle down already, you…" – he snapped at the boy as he shoved him into the circle of his companions. Naturally, Milo still wanted to move forward and was clearly unaware of what was going on around him.
"Milo, stop!" – Daiya commanded, before anyone could harm him. At her words, the young elf froze.
"So you listen to your girlfriend, huh?" – the armed man gave him one last shove, but received no reaction.
Satisfied that the boy was safe, Daiya threw her recently acquired dagger to the ground and extended her hands. One of the nearby attackers, who looked to be middle-aged, tied her wrists and then those of the others, and led the prisoners to the small square in the middle of the fort, where they were made to sit next to each other. Fortunately, Milo sat in the middle—otherwise, Daiya might have tried to take out her anger on Gert and bite the merchant to death.