I saw a shadow moving in the darkness of the inn. Someone who was half a head taller than me. I flinched in shock and suppressed a scream. Behind me, I heard Marcy gasp. With a quick motion of my hand behind my back, I signaled her to hide. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her quietly slip to the wall beside the entrance. Now I was the only one standing in the doorway.
The figure in the dark room stepped closer. The faint light of dawn illuminated the shadow and gave it a face. Val stood before me. Her golden-brown eyes glinted at me in a way that was almost intimidating, while she stood there with a raised hand, armed with a soup ladle
I exhaled in relief and asked her hysterically,
"Are you planning to beat me to death with a soup ladle?"
Of course, I kept my voice down so we would not draw any attention from outside. I stepped over the threshold.
Val's previously threatening expression relaxed, and she lowered her "weapon." In a cheerful tone, she said,
"Oh! Nova! It's you!"
She too let out a sigh of relief. She leaned forward slightly, took a quick breath, and then explained,
"I am definitely not made for this kind of stress. What on earth were you doing outside? I thought you had gone to bed long ago."
She straightened up and looked me over with concern. With that expression on her face, she suddenly seemed much older than she really was.
"Where were you at this hour?" she asked suspiciously.
She tried to glance past me toward the outside.
"Has the curfew been lifted? A few hours ago, one of my employees said a man from the city watch came by and told all the residents not to leave their homes under any circumstances tonight," Val explained quickly. "I do not know exactly what is going on, but he said it was very dangerous outside. And suddenly the city was swarming with knights for a while, as if they were searching for someone."
"Val, I need your help. Urgently," I interrupted her as my fingers clenched tightly in the fabric of my clothes.
Val's breath caught for a moment. Her eyebrows shot up. Then she gathered herself again and asked,
"Okay? What did you do?"
Her concern deepened. I answered:
"I do not have time to explain. But I brought someone with me."
I turned toward the open door and said,
"Come in."
Marcy stepped out of her hiding spot and entered the inn hesitantly. I closed the door behind her. She greeted Val politely, though with visible restraint.
"Hello. I apologize for disturbing you at this hour."
Val's eyes widened. Her shoulders tensed noticeably, and she squinted as if she thought she was seeing an illusion. She began to bow, stammering something incoherent in a trembling voice, but Marcy raised her hand and interrupted her awkwardly.
"Ah, please, do not. Just act as if I were someone else."
I had never seen Val like this before. It looked as though she suddenly remembered something important. She flinched and asked me in complete shock,
"N-Nova… do you realize who you just brought here?"
I tilted my head slightly. Val answered my unspoken question.
"That is Crown Princess Marceline of Grania."
For a heartbeat, the air caught in my throat. Val exhaled loudly, threw her head back, and pressed her hand to her forehead.
"How can you not know that?" she groaned.
"Keep your voice down," I whispered, glancing through the small window in the door. My heart felt as though it had stopped for a moment. Then came the uneven yet comforting thumping in my chest again, and I wiped the sweat from my forehead.
I looked at Marcy, or rather Marceline of Grania, as her full name apparently was, annoyed, and asked accusingly,
"So, the Crown Princess, huh?"
Marceline avoided my gaze with a guilty expression.
"Nova," Val hissed at me as quietly as she could. "You cannot talk to her like that."
"Oh, it is fine. Ever since my father took office, such formalities have lost their meaning anyway, and besides," said Marceline with a trace of discomfort, but she did not finish her sentence.
I interrupted her bluntly,
"We have other problems."
Val crossed her arms, turned to Marceline, and apologized for my lack of manners.
I was well aware that the person standing in front of me was apparently someone very important, but at that moment I could not have cared less whether I seemed impolite or not.
I turned to Val and said:
"Val, we do not have time. We have to leave the city."
Her eyes widened. Then her expression turned serious again.
"Okay, I understand," she replied shortly, her shoulders tensing up.
"I will explain it to you another time. Can we use your cellar?" I finally asked.
She knew immediately what I meant and nodded.
Val placed her "weapon" on the bar counter and hurried to the staircase. Under the stairs was an old wooden door. While the rest of the inn was in good condition, this door looked as if it might fall apart at any moment. Over the years, it had been crudely patched together with a few extra planks and nails.
Val pulled the door open with a strong jerk. It squeaked terribly and resisted moving in its hinges. Once she had managed to yank it open, it wobbled loosely. Ancient dust trickled down between the boards like gray snow falling to the ground.
"Light…" she murmured and hurried into the kitchen through the dimness. She left the kitchen door open, so Marceline and I could hear her rummaging through something. I fought the urge to cover my ears. A moment later, she rushed back to us.
I gestured for Marceline to go to the door when suddenly someone began pounding on it.
"City Watch! We are searching every inn for a dangerous fugitive! Open the door immediately!"
The blood in my veins froze solid.
Marceline flinched in shock. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, as if it could protect her from all harm.
Val also looked startled but remained much calmer than the rest of us. She whispered,
"You never think ahead, Nova. It was obvious they would search the inns in the city."
I raised a finger to my lips and whispered,
"Shh."
Everyone held their breath. For a few seconds, there was silence. Then the pounding resumed, and a voice called out,
"We know someone is in there! Open the door for your own safety!"
Damn it. Curse these old wooden houses. But Val was right; I should have thought of that.
Val pressed something small into my hand, then went to the door and made a quick motion in our direction. There was no time to look at what she had given me, but it felt like several small, smooth pebbles.
I understood.
She whispered very quietly,
"Go, I will take care of this."
I gave Val a worried look, but she already had her hand on the door latch and was looking at me firmly. With a small motion of her head, she gestured toward the old cellar door behind me.
I bit my lower lip, turned around, and gently pushed Marceline toward the cellar. She glanced back over her shoulder with deep concern. Once Marceline was on the worm-eaten wooden stairs leading down, I followed her as silently as possible and slowly pulled the door closed behind me. The room darkened.
Just before the door shut completely, I heard Val open the front door of her inn and deliver a flawless act.
"Oh, no! Who are you looking for? No, no, not at all... please, come in!"
Unfortunately, I had no time to admire her talent for acting. Then everything went pitch black. Marceline and I felt our way along the railing in the cool, damp cellar. Suddenly I bumped into her. A scent of honey and almonds surrounded her.
I do not like almonds, I thought. The small impact made her stumble slightly.
Do not get distracted, Nova.
"What is it?" I whispered, trying to stay focused.
"Last step," she warned softly, barely loud enough to understand. Then she disappeared from in front of me. I heard a faint sound like small stones shifting against each other. Since I had been in the cellar several times before, I knew Marceline had reached the bottom. The cellar floor was covered only with a layer of pebbles.
Carefully, I set one foot on the last step. Then I too reached the gravel-covered ground.
"Are we just going to hide here until the city guards leave?" she asked in a trembling voice.
I shook my head. Then I remembered she could not see me, so I pressed my hand to my sweat-cooled forehead and replied,
"No, we are leaving the inn."
"How? Can you simply magic us out of the city?" Marceline asked uncertainly.
"Hold this," I said, reaching for her hand. My fingertips brushed against her cloak, its surface oddly smooth and not as coarse as most cloaks of our time. I finally found her arm, took her hand, gently opened her palm, and placed the object from earlier onto it.
She now asked in a clearer voice,
"What is that?"
"You will see soon," I said and slipped past her. Like a blind person, I felt the air for possible obstacles. But nothing brushed against my hands. I instinctively closed my eyes and stopped. This had to be the other end of the room.
Above us, there were footsteps and muffled voices. They were barely more than murmurs. The wood creaked and groaned under every footstep that pressed against the floorboards. Even though I could not see anything, I turned toward the stairs, unable to breathe or even blink. But no one opened the cellar door yet.
It was only a matter of time, though. We had to hurry. I turned back toward the wall in front of me when a greenish light suddenly flashed in the corner of my eye. I looked over my shoulder and blinked against the brightness.
Marceline was holding one of the small, round objects between her thumb and index finger, examining it skeptically. The rest were resting on her outstretched palm.
She whispered,
"A glowing stone?"
Meanwhile, I used the light to start moving the crates and wooden boards directly in front of me. Despite the manageable weight of the objects, I was slowly running out of breath. Marceline said,
"Wait, let me help you."
I shook my head as I moved another crate aside. She puffed out her cheeks and then asked, irritated,
"Why not? I do not know exactly what you are doing, but one thing is clear: we do not have time."
"I have it under control," I replied curtly and stacked the last crate on top of the others.
"Okay, and what is that supposed to be? Care to let me in on your plan?" she demanded.
I pointed to the door in front of us. It was tall but narrow, made of almost black wood. The surface was rough and untreated. Rusty hinges held it in place. A strong, metallic smell drifted from the rust. By some miracle, it was still holding together.
Behind me, I heard Marceline croak,
"A secret door?"
"Not quite," I corrected and quietly pulled the door open. The smell of decayed wood and metal filled my nose.
I let her step into the deep darkness ahead of me. I followed and closed the door behind us. She had gone a few steps ahead and waited with the light until I caught up. The light was too weak to illuminate the entire room, so everything beyond its reach appeared only as vague outlines.
The air was heavy and damp. It smelled musty. We stood on a kind of stone platform. Cracks ran through the paving beneath my boots. As I walked, I accidentally kicked a small stone off the platform, and it disappeared into the darkness below. Moments later, a dull clattering sound echoed back to us. Above our heads, a faintly curved arch was visible in the ceiling. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped into the depths. Each of our steps echoed through the vast space until the sound eventually faded into nothingness.
"Careful, there is a staircase here," Marceline warned me in a hoarse voice. She tested the next step beneath her foot to make sure she would not slip on the crumbling stone.
With most of her steps, small stones came loose. The staircase turned at a right angle and led us two or three meters down. There was no railing. My fingers slid along the damp wall, tracing the rough edges and cracks. The brick felt cold and wet against my skin. Carefully, I stepped off the last stair. The ground beneath my leather boots felt soft and loose.
Marceline raised her arm and held the light source up to illuminate our surroundings better. In front of us stretched a large, expansive space—or rather, an entire tunnel system. The tunnels had been built from massive sandstone blocks. The past decades had left marks on the walls and ceiling, yet the masonry still appeared stable. Several passages branched off into other tunnels, their ends swallowed by deep darkness.
"Where are we?" she asked in awe.
I tugged at the sleeve of her shirt, stepped ahead, and said,
"Let's first put as much distance as possible between us and the inn."
"What if they follow us?" Marceline whispered fearfully. She walked close beside me, and with every step, the elegantly embroidered hem of her skirt fluttered in rhythm. Even her curls bounced with her movements.
"They will not," I replied calmly.
"What if they do?" she pressed, her brows furrowed. Her voice had risen a few pitches and now sounded almost like a squeak.
I forced my lips into a faint smile, though the weight on my chest remained. Then I said in a soothing tone,
"Let them try to find us down here first. There are countless passages."
Marceline stopped for a moment and stood still. I turned toward her, stretched out my hand, and urged,
"Come on."
She raised her hand but hesitated to take mine. Fear flickered in her eyes. Then the corners of her mouth hinted at a small smile, and she took my hand.
Every sound we made echoed twice as loud through the tunnel. For quite a while, we had walked side by side in silence. During the first half hour, we had almost been running. By now, our pace had settled into something steady but still brisk.
I needed several breaks in between to catch my breath. Most of the time, I managed to ignore my exhaustion, but that could not last forever. Every now and then, black spots danced before my eyes, and dizziness washed over me. Still, I forced myself to keep going.
Eventually, I was so out of breath that Marceline insisted I sit down for a moment.
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and sank onto the damp, sandy ground. A stone pressed against my thigh from the side. I removed it and tossed it carelessly into the darkness. A soft clacking sound echoed when it hit the ground, followed by a faint swirl of dust.
Marceline sat down beside me, resting her back against the cold wall. She gazed up at the arch in the ceiling. Her hand was outstretched, holding the small object that dimly lit the tunnel. A barely noticeable tremor ran through her hands, which she tried desperately to suppress.
I pretended not to notice and said, despite my own unease,
"A few decades ago, these tunnels were used for brewing and storing beer and wine."
My voice spread through the suffocating silence with an echo. Marceline flinched and turned her head toward me. Beneath her long, thick lashes, she looked at me questioningly. The fear no longer controlled her, but it still lingered over her round face like a shadow.
I continued:
"Did you know that tunnels like these run beneath the entire city? Almost every house is connected to the next. Even though all the entrances had to be sealed long ago, the inn was spared due to certain circumstances."
"I did not know that," Marceline replied hesitantly. "How do you know about it?"
I shrugged and said,
"I discovered the tunnels by accident and used to wander around down here when I was bored. Over the years, I got into the habit of mapping every place I enter in my head."
I remembered the day I found the tunnels very clearly. Even now, the memory made my heart race.
She raised her eyebrows and said in an impressed tone,
"And you managed to remember all that?"
Then silence fell again. My eyelids kept growing heavy, and I struggled to keep my eyes open.
Marceline lowered her gaze to her outstretched hand. Then she lifted the small, round, greenish glowing object and turned to me.
"And what is this?"
"That is a light seed," I explained with a yawn.
"Light seed? Why does it glow?" she asked, examining the seed closely in her hand. Marceline slowly ran her finger across its surface as if she wanted to feel every detail. The trembling in her hands disappeared, and her breathing became calm and steady.
"It is a magical seed from Silvandar," I replied. "You know… before the land and its animal and plant life were destroyed. It absorbs a small amount of the life energy or magic around it and then begins to glow. Like most plants that once grew in Silvandar."
"Oh," she said in surprise.
But one thing had to be said about those seeds. They were extremely practical. Small, handy, and reusable.
"How illegal," she murmured, a faint smile touching her lips.
The distraction did me good as well. The pressure on my chest eased a little.
"It absorbs life energy?" she asked. "Is that not dangerous?"
I shook my head and reassured her,
"It takes so little from its surroundings that you will not even notice it."
"She could have given us a candle too."
"But the seed can be reused," I countered.
"Hmm, but we could get into trouble for it," she said in response.
I replied,
"I'm afraid we have bigger problems, Princess."
She smiled faintly and played with one of the seeds in her hand.
A few moments later, she asked,
"And where did your friend… I think her name was Val? Where did she get this seed?"
"Well…" I began. The words almost caught in my throat. For a brief moment, I did not know what to say. Marceline gave me a weak smile and said,
"It's all right, I can imagine."
She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment. After a while, she asked in little more than a whisper,
"Do these… tunnels lead directly out of the city?"
"Some of them, yes," I answered with a nod.
"Then Kiyan wouldn't have needed to stay behind," Marceline murmured sadly.
"If he hadn't distracted the city guards, we might not have made it to the inn. I don't think I would have been able to use magic again."
"You know he only insisted that I go with you because of that, right?" she asked softly while holding one corner of her cloak and running her fingers across the fabric.
"Well… I suppose he overestimated me," I joked. Inwardly, I thought, like most people do.
She frowned.
"Don't say that. Without your help, I probably wouldn't be alive right now."
Marceline wrapped her arms around herself and looked down at the ground.
"Your name was… Nova, wasn't it?" she asked suddenly, turning back to me. She leaned forward slightly as if that would help her hear my answer better.
Right, Val had called me that in front of her. So I nodded.
"You already know my name, but please call me Marcy," she said with a small smile.
A nice nickname.
"O-okay," I stammered in surprise, "then I'll do that."
Still, it felt strange to call her that. A few moments later, we continued on our way.
Hours later, we reached the end of the tunnel. The ground beneath our boots began to slope upward. An old, half-collapsed stone staircase led to a trapdoor fixed in the ceiling of the tunnel. The trapdoor was made of wood and looked as though it had not been replaced in years.
Slowly, I climbed the last few steps, careful not to make a wrong move. Marcy followed with the light source, which cast flickering shadows across the rough stone walls. When I tried to push the trapdoor open, pieces of rotted wood crumbled away.
"Oh, this thing is rotten too," I muttered and pressed my back against it. Finally, the door gave way and swung upward as the wood split into several pieces. A pitiful remnant of it still clung to its hinges.
Sunlight poured into the tunnel and blinded us. I leaned against the stone wall and squinted until my eyes slowly adjusted to the bright light.
Finally, we can get out of here.
Cautiously, I poked my head outside. We were at the edge of a forest, not far from a farmhouse. A few cows grazed in the field before us. In the distance, I could hear hammering, voices calling out, clattering sounds, and a rooster crowing. The air smelled of fresh dew. Smoke rose from the chimney of the house. By the fence stood a horse, and a single figure moved quickly across the yard. The person was too far away for me to make out any details, and that was fine by me.
I climbed out of the tunnel and reached down to help Marcy up. She tucked the seeds into the inner pocket of her cloak. We pulled our hoods up and quietly left the farm on tiptoe. Every now and then, we spotted patrols, which we carefully avoided. Marcy claimed to know a safe route.
So she went ahead and led me along a narrow path through the forest. After a while, we emerged from the trees and reached a hill with a single old oak tree standing at its crest. Separated from the city and bordered only by the nearby woods, this was our meeting point.
To be safe, we waited near the edge of the forest, sheltered by the trees. The hems of our cloaks and our boots were damp with morning dew. Birds chirped peacefully, as if all were right with the world. The sight of the open landscape calmed my nerves. I drew in a deep breath of the cool, fresh air to fill my tired lungs.
Marcy sat down on a damp tree stump covered in a thin layer of moss. She didn't seem to care about the dirt that rubbed off onto her clothes. We were already filthy enough after sitting on the ground earlier anyway.
And so we waited nervously as our precious time slowly slipped away.
I wasn't sure how long we had been waiting. Long enough for the sun to rise higher above us. There was still no sign of Kiyan. Restlessly, Marcy tugged at the lilac-colored sleeve of her dress.
After a while, I stood beside her, turned toward her, and tilted my head slightly as I said,
"We can't stay here any longer. It's too dangerous."
I had spoken the words carefully. They were barely more than a whisper. My knees trembled, and I did my best to hide it, hoping she wouldn't notice.
Marcy shook her head with narrowed eyes, pressing her lips together.
"He'll show up. Please, let's wait just a little longer," she pleaded, her voice breaking.
I actually wanted to be gone already, to go my own way. But when I saw her sitting there with her head hanging low, I couldn't bring myself to leave her alone.
I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to her companion. Had they caught him?
Then, suddenly, the telltale sound of a snapping branch came from directly behind us.
I didn't dare move. Every muscle in my body tensed.