Move and Escape

It felt like drowning in an abyss. After what seemed like an eternity, darkness gave way to the sight of Eva and Philippe's faces. They were conversing in front of Agatha, but her body ached from the punches and kicks delivered by their knights, making it impossible to understand what they were saying.

Her head throbbed from being shoved into a thick tree, the impact so forceful it shattered the tree. Agatha wondered if her mind was as broken as the wood.

She tried to move but found herself tied to a tall tree. The thick rope tightened with every movement, wrapping her torso so securely that it was difficult to breathe.

Desperately, she looked around for her Aunt Isa. Her heart sank when she saw her aunt lying bloody and motionless on the ground, her clothes torn to shreds and soaked in blood.

"Is she dead?" Agatha wondered helplessly.

Agatha tried to call out to her, but no sound emerged. All she could do was cry silently as salty tears streaked down her cheeks. She couldn't fathom what she had done to deserve such torment.

Her parents were good people, as was her Aunt Isa. Why did misfortune always seem to find them? Why did they always have to run and hide? Why were they being hurt? Why did her parents have to die? Why were they hated? Why them?

Agatha's mind swirled with questions, but one dominated: "How am I supposed to escape?"

She needed to save her Aunt Isa. They had to escape from here.

"Nysander…"

Agatha ceased her movements when she saw King Philippe walking toward a tall man she had never seen before.

Nysander had large horns indicating he was a Ravager. But why would a Ravager be in Etherealis? For what reason? He was tall and muscular, but what struck Agatha most were his eyes—one gold and one red, both sparkling in the dim light.

Philippe said upon reaching him, "We might not have captured the Wyvern you wanted, but we did capture a Nymph. She looks weak, but when we introduced Ksaver to her, she fought back. We're certain her body can handle it."

The Ravager nodded, his menacing stare landing on Aunt Isa.

"In exchange for the Nymph, you'll help us gain the Kingdom's support, right?" Philippe asked.

Agatha held her breath and tightly closed her eyes, feigning sleep when the Ravager glanced her way. Fear silenced her.

"The kid?" The Ravager asked in a sinister tone.

There was a pause. "The kid is ours, Nysander." It was Eva's voice, and Agatha felt her gaze too.

Through a small opening in her eyes, Agatha glimpsed the arrogant smile on Eva's face, a face she wanted to smash into the ground until it was unrecognizable. She wanted to crush Eva's face in the mud and let her feel the pain she had inflicted.

Nysander approached Aunt Isa and, without hesitation, kicked her side swiftly. Agatha's eyes darkened with rage. She tried to shout, but she realized she was still gagged.

Aunt Isa coughed up thick blood onto the ground. The Ravager stood over her and slapped her to rouse her.

Agatha shivered with immense anger. What was their problem? What did they want from them? She wondered.

"Bathe her," Nysander ordered, tossing Aunt Isa's body toward one of Philippe's knights.

Agatha grew more worried as Isa was taken somewhere out of her sight, near a small cabin. She tried to glance sideways, but the rope limited her movement and vision.

In a distant part of the forest, out of the bonfire's light, Eva and Philippe stood conversing intimately with the Ravager.

Each second that Agatha couldn't see her aunt, her fear worsened. What if the monsters had already hurt her?

She tried wiggling out of the rope again, but she couldn't free herself. She knew little about her powers, having grown up away from other Fae. She didn't know the full potential of her abilities except for healing wounds and some illnesses.

Agatha wasn't sure how long she had been trying to break free, to no avail. It was still dark, and the night deepened. Philippe and Eva were nowhere to be found. Only the knights guarding her and the silent, motionless Ravager named Nysander remained.

As she was about to drift off to sleep, Agatha jolted awake when Aunt Isa's body thudded horribly to the ground a few feet away.

She was clean but covered in red, although there were no visible wounds. When their eyes met, Isa tried to crawl toward Agatha but was immediately stopped by a man in a black mask.

Aunt Isa fought back with all her might, but when the man drew a sharp sword, she froze. Agatha screamed as the man prepared to slice Aunt Isa's cheek.

"That's enough," Nysander's voice thundered, causing the man to stop and only stare at Aunt Isa's shocked and terrified face.

"I'll kill you if the Carrier gets hurt," Nysander added in a chilling tone.

Aunt Isa's lips parted in fear. The man immediately sheathed his sword but held Aunt Isa firmly by the arm.

Isa clenched her jaw before screaming, "I'll never be your Carrier, you demon!" Her eyes blazed as she pulled her arm free and ran toward Nysander.

She punched him in the gut, but Nysander effortlessly knocked her to the ground. "It's never for you to decide, Nymph," he said, clutching Isa's chin with a firm grip. "You'll carry my blood, whether you want to or not…"

Coldness enveloped Agatha. Her mind struggled to process his words. He couldn't do that, she thought. It couldn't be. Agatha couldn't follow what unfolded next. She couldn't breathe properly, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions—anger, helplessness, and a faint glimmer of hope. Her thoughts ceased when Isa screamed at the top of her lungs.

"No… No. Stop it! Auntie Isa!" Agatha tried to shout again, but only muffled cries emerged. 

Aunt Isa was stripped of her clothes, her naked body exposed. The forest was dark beneath the large leaves of the trees, but the nearby bonfire illuminated the scene just enough for Agatha to see. 

She wished she couldn't. She wished she hadn't seen it. She wished it was all a terrible nightmare. Her tears blurred her vision, but she could still hear each of Aunt Isa's whimpers.

Screams shattered the forest's silence, but no one came to help. A dozen masked men surrounded her, watching beneath Nysander's gaze.

Isa kept fighting while Agatha kept shouting. But nothing changed. She struggled against the ropes, but it was hopeless.

"Please…" Agatha begged. "Stop…"

She cried so hard her body shook. Why did they have to experience this? They hadn't hurt anyone. Where did they go wrong?

The night grew longer, and Aunt Isa stopped fighting. From afar, Agatha could still see the shimmer of her aunt's relentless tears. Now, Isa lay still and stiff, blood seeping from the wounds inflicted by the Ravager.

Agatha couldn't bear to see her like that. She wanted to look away but couldn't bring herself to do it. She was afraid that if she looked away, Isa might disappear.

She was terrified of abandoning her aunt, so she kept her gaze fixed on her, even though it killed her to see Isa in such a state.

She imagined killing Nysander countless times in her mind. She didn't know how long she had been crying and shouting, but the gag kept her voice from being heard. Her throat was sore and itchy, but she didn't stop calling for help, even though no one seemed to hear her.

She hoped. She hoped that their savior would come. She hoped Nysander would finally stop. She hoped they would free Aunt Isa. But nothing happened. She just hoped, and in the end, he still did what he wanted.

That night, a piece of Agatha died.

She was filled with rage—toward Philippe, Eva, and Ksaver, who brought misfortune upon them. She was furious at Nysander for what he did to Aunt Isa. She was angry at Philippe's knights for doing nothing but watching while Isa struggled.

But most of all, Agatha was mad at herself. She was too weak to help the one who saved her and became her mother.

Agatha didn't sleep. She spent the rest of the night staring at Aunt Isa lying on the ground. Her tears stopped flowing. She couldn't even breathe, her mind and heart full of questions, anger, sorrow, and sadness.

She felt it was somehow her fault. If only she were stronger. If only they hadn't returned. If only Isa hadn't seen Philippe. If only she had stopped her aunt from coming back. If only her parents hadn't died. If only her life were peaceful and happy. If only she weren't alone. If only someone had helped them. If only she could fight them all.

Her chest heaved painfully. Regrets fueled her pain, pricking her like needles.

Agatha didn't move, even after the Ravager left. She was so scared that it seemed Isa might already be dead. That couldn't be. Maybe Isa's body gave up because of the violence.

Inexplicable fear gripped Agatha. She stared at her aunt, and relief filled her when she saw a faint breath.

Almost choking with emotion, Agatha saw that Isa seemed out of herself, staring blankly at the moonlight. The once white dress was now brown with dirt and blood. She had wounds on her arms and legs, looking like a rag doll. Agatha's heart bled for her pain.

As morning came, someone took Isa from the ground. Agatha couldn't see where they took her, and another wave of fear engulfed her.

They might hurt her again. Despite her anger, it wasn't enough to do anything. She couldn't escape the ropes and save her.

In the afternoon, Eva returned from the carriage alone. Philippe was nowhere to be seen. Agatha heard Eva's voice talking with the Ravager, but she couldn't see them. They were in another part of the forest, out of her sight.

She heard, faintly like a whisper, that she would be taken back to the dungeon while the Ravager took Auntie Isa.

Agatha couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let the Ravager have her.

When another night came, Agatha feigned sleep, her body weary and weakened from days without food or water. Her limbs ached, but she tried to compose herself.

The rustling of leaves signaled someone approaching. After a moment, the rope was removed from her, and she felt a rough hand on her chin.

A gruff voice echoed. "She's asleep, master. She might've lost her strength from hunger."

Laughter followed, mocking her situation. She wanted to lash out, but she stopped herself. She had to keep up the act if she wanted to save Auntie Isa.

She knew she couldn't fight all of Philippe's knights, Eva, and the Ravager simultaneously. She wouldn't survive. She had to defeat them one by one.

Eva's voice gave orders nearby.

Agatha's bloody body was thrown onto the cold, rough floor. It smelled of dried wood. She closed her eyes and felt the surroundings. She was tied again, but not as tightly as before. She was thankful for that small mercy.

As the ground moved beneath her, she heard horses galloping and neighing. She realized she was in a carriage. She focused on sensing the presence of others, a skill her father had taught her.

Eyes closed, she sensed two guards near her, one coachman, and Eva surrounded by two more guards. It was dark, but she could see sacks of rice stuffed inside the carriage.

Agatha squinted and saw the guards sleeping near the door. She immediately and silently untied herself.

Spotting two small daggers nearby, she took them. They weren't made for killing but would suffice.

Agatha silently maneuvered her way to the sleeping guards. One had his head lowered, exposing the veins on his neck. Using the discarded knife, she slowly and carefully cut his nape while gripping his mouth to prevent any noise.

She aimed to cut the vein that would make him lose consciousness for hours, or perhaps forever.

Her father had taught her this when she was five, and she perfected it by eight, just a week before he died. Agatha repeated the process on the next guard with precise care. She couldn't afford mistakes. Their lives were at stake.

After making the two guards unconscious, she carefully opened the door. Peeking outside, she saw only the forest. She breathed deeply and hid her presence. It was tiring, but necessary.

Agatha planned to sneak out. She couldn't confront Eva yet. She needed to reach Auntie Isa first. She was about to leave the carriage when a guard outside noticed her.

"The kid!" he shouted.

The carriage halted abruptly, as did Eva's carriage in front. Agatha almost stumbled. The guard soon emerged, followed by Eva.

This was it. It was now or never. Agatha needed to make her move and escape.