"Aeloria the cannibal? You mean the one who wiped out the entire great Almon family? The one who was able to leave a scar on Commander Orin?" a guard asked in surprise, voice dropping to a whisper as if saying the name too loud might summon her.
They had all heard the rumours, even years after she escaped execution. None of those stories were pleasant—tales of an entire noble family vanishing in a single night, of entire bandit camps wiped out. Some parents even used her name to scare disobedient children.
"Yes," Javier answered calmly, "and she just happens to be my aunt."
He stepped closer to one of the corpses, the one whose glove had been removed. The early morning rays filtered through the canopy, falling on mushrooms and plants, and a few of the motionless bodies.
Kneeling, Javier examined the mangled hand where the thumb had been bitten clean off, armour torn open like paper.
"But I thought she disappeared without a trace," a young soldier replied in a shaky voice. He was the same one who had objected to taking advantage of the princess. The last thing he wanted was to run into the monster his mother had used to scare him into obedience as a child.
"Judging by his glove," Javier said, pointing at the discarded leather, "they did find the princess."
He walked a few paces and stopped at the pit half-covered with broken branches.
"She was hiding in here, I'd wager. They dragged her out… and this idiot tried to take advantage of her." His voice hardened. "Michael would be furious if he found out."
He walked back to the gloveless corpse and nudged it with his boot.
"Taking his glove off means he tried to get physical with the princess. But something interrupted him. No matter how you look at it, the range of the bite marks is exactly the size of a human mouth. And in all of history, there has only ever been one person who would do this—my aunt."
Javier straightened, walked to his horse, and kicked the corpse aside without ceremony as he mounted.
"It doesn't matter that I'm after the life of the princess," he said. "It won't change the fact that I was fond of her when we were children. Disrespecting her like that deserves death."
He spurred the horse forward in the direction Aeloria had taken Rya. The other soldiers exchanged uneasy glances but followed close behind, hooves thudding against the earth.
They rode in tense silence for a few heartbeats.
Javier suddenly reined in.
He dismounted and walked to a nearby tree. Reaching out, his hand passed straight through the trunk as though it were mist.
"Whoa—what is that? His hand sank right through," a soldier exclaimed, eyes wide.
Javier withdrew his hand and stared at the seemingly solid tree.
'So it really is her.
Judging by the signs, she's not far away, but she's concealing the entire area with Šërēĺįťh.
This is a problem.
I could force my way through in about a day, but that would alert her immediately. If she's sheltering the princess, she would hide her deeper before we even met.
To break the barrier while concealing our presence… I'll need three days.'
"We stop here," Javier announced, leaving no room for argument. "We'll continue in three days."
"But Lord Javier—" one soldier began.
The protest died as Javier's golden dagger flashed.
The man's left arm hit the ground with a wet thud, severed clean at the elbow. Blood sprayed across the earth.
The soldier screamed, clutching the gushing stump.
"I thought I told you to speak only with my permission," Javier said coldly, wiping the blade with a casual swing before sheathing it.
The soldier clenched his jaw, face twisted in agony and fury. He tore a strip from his cloak with his teeth and one hand, he then wrapped it tightly around the wound to stem the bleeding. For a soldier, losing an arm meant the end of a career. The most skilled might continue service, but demoted several ranks, reduced to training recruits or guarding storehouses.
"Take one of the spare horses if you need," he called after him. "Report to the queen that we have yet to locate the princess, but we will not give up."
He gripped the reins with his remaining hand, swung up onto his horse using raw momentum and pain-fueled rage, and rode off toward Runevale, resentment burning in his eyes.
Javier watched him go without expression.
Javier turned back to the invisible barrier.
Three days.
Then he would meet his aunt.
And decide whether bond of family was stronger than duty to one's kingdom.
"He's up to his foul habits again," one of the remaining soldiers thought, watching Javier in silence from his horse while the others shifted uneasily in their saddles.
They could not be blamed for their uneasiness. Only a handful in the entire kingdom truly understood the cursed tongue of Šërēĺįťh, and even fewer could wield it. To most soldiers in Javier's party, the invisible barrier was nothing more than strange air and a bad feeling. But Javier was not a patient man, nor one inclined to explain. Unlike his father, who earned the title of Tyrant through sheer presence, Javier wore it like a second skin—he acted on it.
Meanwhile, inside the small hidden house, the three of them sat around the table with their bellies full and the empty bowls pushed aside.
"That was so satisfying," Rya said, letting out a long, content sigh as she watched Enoch with a soft smile.
"Yes, it was so good, like always," Enoch agreed, clutching his round stomach with both hands, his face flushed from stuffing himself.
"I'm glad you both liked it," Aeloria said, preparing to stack the bowls and gather the leftover scraps.
"Mom… I think I'll vomit," Enoch said suddenly, his face turning a ghostly pale green.
"Well, that's to be expected," Aeloria replied with a gentle laugh. "You ate way too much today."
"I wanted to grow big fast," he protested weakly, "so I can fetch enough water for all of us now that big sister has joined us."
Aeloria shook her head fondly and helped him out of the chair. "Come on, let's get you lying down."
Rya sat alone at the cleared table for a moment, staring at the scattered plates and the few remaining pieces of potato and rabbit.
'How do I go about cleaning this?
Mira always did it, so it shouldn't be that hard.'
She began her somewhat pathetic attempt to clear the table, stacking bowls crookedly and scraping leftovers into one pile with uncertain movements.
After a while, Aeloria returned with Enoch, who still looked queasy but better.
"How is he feeling?" Rya asked, glancing up as they approached.
"I think he just needs to lie down for a while," Aeloria answered, guiding Enoch toward the bedroom curtain.
She appeared again moments later and saw Rya struggling to balance the uneven tower of plates.
"Trying to clean?" she asked with a hint of amusement in her voice as she walked over.
Rya flushed. "Yes… I'm not very good at it."
Aeloria smiled and gently took over. "Before you stack the plates, you need to gather all the disposable leftovers onto one plate first. That way, the rest stack neatly without sliding."
"Oh," Rya said, watching closely. "I see what you mean."
She began to help, following Aeloria's lead—scraping scraps, wiping bowls, arranging everything in orderly piles. It was simple work, but Rya concentrated as though it were the most important task in the world.
Soon, the two women were done. The table gleamed, the bowls were stacked clean, and the leftovers had been wrapped for later.
Aeloria walked outside, and Rya followed behind her without a word.
"Is there something to do outside, Irene?" Rya asked as she stepped into the cool morning air. The breeze brushed her skin, light and fresh, carrying the scent of pine and distant rain.
"No, there's nothing that needs doing right now," Aeloria answered. She positioned the rough wooden bench that had been leaning against the house wall, setting it upright in the small clearing in front of the door.
"I just love the morning breeze," she continued, settling onto the bench and patting the space beside her. "Would you sit with me, Rya?"
"Why, of course," Rya replied, joining her without hesitation.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the wind playing through the leaves overhead.
"The morning breeze is certainly soothing," Rya said, closing her eyes and letting it wash over her face.
"That's to be expected," Aeloria answered, gazing out at the endless trees that ringed their hidden home. "With all the variety of trees growing around us. But…"
She turned to look directly at Rya, her eyes steady and serious.
"I believe there's something far more important for us to talk about. Who are you, Rya? Why were the soldiers of Runevale after you?"