Night fell over the Holy Kingdom.
The golden glow of the evening faded into deep blue darkness, lanterns flickering to life along the streets like scattered stars. Wind slipped through the narrow alleys, carrying the distant clatter of armor and the echo of shouted orders.
The city was searching.
And two fugitives were running through it.
The old healer moved quickly despite her age, pulling the woman along narrow side paths and forgotten streets. Her breathing had grown heavy, but she refused to slow.
"We can't stop," she muttered under her breath. "Not yet."
The woman stumbled beside her.
Her body was weak.
Her legs trembled with every step.
Blood still stained the edges of her dress, and her breaths came short and shallow—but her arms remained locked firmly around the small bundle she carried.
The baby girl.
Wrapped tightly in cloth.
Held close to her mother's chest.
The woman's tears never stopped falling.
But she didn't make a sound.
