The house was too quiet.
Mei sat at the table, her fingertips tapping softly against the worn wood in a rhythm that betrayed her nerves. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound seemed louder than it should have been, carried on the silence of a night already stretched too thin.
Her eyes flicked to the door for the hundredth time, waiting—hoping—to hear the familiar sound of boots that meant Dain and Ren had returned. But the village outside whispered of something else. A faint breeze carried with it a heaviness, a warning that set her chest tight.
Then she heard it.
Crunch… crunch… crunch…
Heavy boots marched down the cobblestone street. Their steps weren't hurried. They weren't wandering. They were deliberate, echoing with authority and the weight of iron.
Mei's back straightened. Her breath caught in her throat. A sharper sound followed—the unmistakable clink of armor shifting with movement.
Knights.
Her chair scraped as she rose too fast, nearly stumbling. She spun toward the narrow window slit, her heart hammering against her ribs. Shadows moved in the dim glow of torches—tall figures, armored and faceless, and the snort of a restless horse confirmed her fear.
Her lips parted, the whisper escaping before she could stop it.
"…Lucian."
The door shook with the force of a gauntleted fist.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
"Open the door. By order of the church."
Mei's mind raced. Her gaze darted across the room, searching for anything—anything—that could buy her time. Her hand flew to the knife on the table, gripping the handle tight enough for her knuckles to whiten. But even as she held it, she knew. Fighting them would mean nothing. She could stab one, maybe two—but she would still die. And then Ren, and Dain…
Her chest heaved once before she shoved the thought away.
No.
She darted to the rug in the corner, ripping it back to reveal the trapdoor beneath. With trembling fingers, she pried it open, the wood groaning softly in protest.
Another series of thunderous bangs rattled the door.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
"If you do not open this door, we will force entry!"
She slipped into the darkness below just as the front door splintered with a deafening crack. The crawlspace swallowed her, damp earth pressing close around her body. She lowered the trapdoor silently above her, her palms flat against the wood. She didn't dare breathe.
CRACK!
The door gave way completely, slamming against the wall as armored boots stormed inside.
"Search everything."
The house groaned under their weight. Chairs scraped. Cabinets banged open. Crockery shattered as drawers and shelves were upended. Mei pressed her forehead against the dirt, forcing her lungs to obey. Every sound from above thundered through the boards as if the knights were already standing over her.
A chair toppled. Thud.
A cabinet slammed. Bang.
Her grip tightened against her knees.
Stay quiet. Don't move.
But one voice chilled her more than the rest.
"Lucian said she would be here," a knight muttered. "The king hesitates. We act first."
Lucian. Always Lucian.
"If she's not here, we burn it down," another knight growled. "That'll draw her out."
Mei's heart lurched violently against her chest. Burn it? Burn the house? Her nails dug into her palms hard enough to sting.
The young knight among them hesitated, his voice uncertain. "…Burning a house without confirmation? That's not—"
"The church commands it," the first snapped. His voice dripped with zealotry, with the same blind devotion that gave Lucian his power. "Lucian commands it."
Silence. The young one said no more.
Mei shut her eyes, forcing herself not to shudder, not to make a single sound that might betray her. She bit the inside of her lip until the metallic taste of blood hit her tongue.
Finally—after what felt like a lifetime—the boots shifted toward the door.
"…She was warned."
Their leader's voice carried a finality that weighed heavy, but then the creak of the door announced their exit. The house groaned as their footsteps receded.
And yet Mei remained frozen in the dark, listening to every clink of armor, every scrape of a boot against stone. Only when the distant snort of horses followed by hooves clattering against the road reached her ears did she dare let out a breath.
It shook through her like a release of everything she'd been holding back.
Her hands trembled. But her resolve didn't.
They won't stop.
She looked up at the thin strip of light seeping through the cracks above. Her eyes hardened, burning with something that pushed past fear.
I have to warn Dain.
Her body moved before the thought finished forming. She shoved the trapdoor open and pulled herself free, stumbling into the wrecked house. Her breaths came fast, ragged, but she didn't waste time. She grabbed the small bag she had prepared long ago for this moment. Her fingers closed tightly around it.
No more hesitation.
She slipped through the door and into the night. Voices still lingered on the street, faint but threatening. She pressed her back to the wall, heart pounding, listening to their words.
"She'll have to return eventually," one knight muttered. "The church doesn't forgive traitors."
Mei's jaw clenched. She sucked in one breath, steadying herself, then bolted into the alley. Her cloak snapped in the wind as her figure vanished into the night.
---
The forest was calm. Too calm.
Dain sat on a fallen log, Ren at his side. The boy was grinning, swinging a stick with exaggerated motions, his laughter carrying into the trees.
"Do you think I'll be as strong as you one day, Dad?"
Dain chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair. His smile was small but genuine. "You'll be even stronger, kid."
Ren laughed, swinging the stick again. His joy filled the clearing like a song, bright and careless.
But Dain's smile faded as the forest stilled. His instincts screamed. The rustling of leaves stilled. The night air carried something heavier.
Ren noticed his father's change and stopped. "Dad?"
Crunch.
A step in the shadows. Then another.
Dain rose slowly, placing himself between his son and the trees.
Lucian stepped into the clearing. The firelight caught the black and gold of his robes, the scar carved down his cheek, and the cruel gleam in his piercing eyes.
"Dain," Lucian drawled, smirking faintly. "How long has it been?"
Dain's voice was flat, his hand already brushing the hilt at his waist. "Not long enough."
Lucian tilted his head, amused. "Is that how you greet an old acquaintance?"
"You're no acquaintance of mine." Dain's tone cut like steel. "Say your piece, Lucian. Then leave."
Lucian's eyes slid toward Ren. His smirk sharpened. "You've picked up strays before… but this one's different."
Ren bristled, gripping his stick tighter. "I'm not a stray!"
Lucian chuckled, his voice dark. "And yet… you don't belong here."
The wind picked up, carrying a chill through the trees.
"You're testing my temper," Dain warned, his voice low.
Lucian's false amusement faded. His voice was colder now, absolute. "Hand the boy over. The church wants him."
Ren's eyes widened. He moved closer to his father, instinctively seeking the protection that had always been there.
Dain's fingers tightened on his sword. His stance shifted, grounded. "You know my answer."
Lucian's smirk disappeared. He straightened, his presence pressing down like a storm. "Then I'll take him."
Steel sang. Dain's sword slid free of its scabbard, the metal gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
Lucian mirrored the motion, his hand lowering to his own weapon, his eyes burning with anticipation.
Ren clung to Dain's cloak, his voice small. "Dad…"
"Stay behind me," Dain murmured, never breaking his gaze. His tone was steady. Assured. A wall of iron.
Lucian stepped forward. It was all Dain needed.
"Enough," Dain said, his voice like stone.
Lucian's smile returned for a heartbeat—sharp, cruel—before he lunged.
The clash was immediate.
Steel met steel with a deafening crash, sparks flaring into the night as the force of their collision shook the ground.
Ren stumbled back, his small eyes wide, watching two titans collide in a storm of steel and fury.
The sound of clashing blades roared through the forest.
The battle had begun.
---