The carriage jolted, wheels screeching against the stones. Elaine's eyes fluttered open, her head pounding, her body weak. The sudden break had thrown her forward, and she gasped, trying to steady herself.
From the front, Demure's voice rang out, sharp and impatient. "Hey, excuse me! Go around! Damn, she's riding on the horse and can't even listen…"
Elaine's breath caught. The silhouette outside — the posture, the silence. Wait… it can't be.
Demure climbed down, muttering curses, and approached the rider. The woman sat still, her face shadowed, a sword glinting faintly at her side. Demure stiffened, his bravado faltering. "Hey, excuse me! You!"
The woman dismounted, her voice cold, commanding. "Move."
Demure's courage broke. He stumbled backward, fear etched across his face.
The woman strode forward, opening the carriage door. Inside, Isabelle clutched a knife, her eyes wild, while Colden strained against the ropes, anticipation burning in his chest.
Elaine's eyes widened, her voice breaking into a scream. "Mother!"
Colden turned, stunned. The rider stepped into the light — Viremont. Her hair cut short, her dress strapped tight, her expression hardened by years apart.
Isabelle's grip faltered. The knife slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor. Viremont moved swiftly, untying Colden's knots, her hands steady, her presence overwhelming. Elaine lunged forward, embracing her mother with desperate strength. Tears spilled as they clung to each other, their reunion raw and trembling.
"I'm sorry it took so long to hug you," Viremont whispered, her voice breaking.
Elaine wept against her shoulder, the years of absence dissolving in that single moment.
But Colden's eyes darted back — Isabelle had seized the knife again, creeping behind Viremont. His voice tore through the air. "Watch out!"
Viremont spun, striking with precision. The back of her blade slammed into Isabelle's temple, sending her collapsing into unconsciousness.
Colden exhaled, his chest heaving, relief flooding through him. Together, they climbed out of the carriage.
The road stretched ahead, and in the distance lay the third stop. Demure sat trembling at the reins, fumbling with the carriage he barely knew how to drive. His cowardice was plain, his hands shaking as the horses snorted in frustration.
The journey was far from over. But for the first time, hope flickered.
TO BE CONTINUED…
NEXT CHAPTER ON 9th MARCH 2026