5-6

This was the first time Sylvia found herself in the forest, far away from Stormwind. The unfamiliar environment did not cause her any concern. She lay on her right side, slightly turning her head to gaze at the night sky, partially obscured by leaves. She imagined her body floating beyond those dark blue meshes, hovering at the top of the tallest tree; the wind blowing from all directions, bringing with it sounds that could only be heard from such heights. She had always feared a door left ajar in the darkness, but the open darkness between the trees brought her comfort. She saw them as seldom-trodden paths, each one leading to places worth leaving her footprints.

She should sleep, but she couldn't, because she had a plan. A plan that warranted excitement and focus.

She let her gaze return to the ground. Around the faint campfire, three meters to her right, Cornwall was sleeping in his usual position: lying on his back, one hand resting on his upper abdomen. It had taken Cornwall quite some time to go from forcing his eyes shut to actually falling asleep.

Sylvia slowly turned over. Not far to her left, Hilsbeth lay with her back to Sylvia. Sylvia didn't know if Hilsbeth was asleep, nor did she care to know. From the beginning, she had avoided getting to know this woman any further. Panthonia's former lover, mute—those two facts were all she needed to know for now.

Opposite the three of them, on the other side of the fire, were two of Panthonia's men. One leaned against a rock with his eyes closed, while the other sat wide awake. They took turns keeping watch on the journey, getting less than five hours of actual sleep each day.

Sylvia slowly got up and walked toward the other side. As soon as she crossed the spot near the fire, the watchful guard looked up at her.

"Where are you going?"

"Sorry, I wanted to ask if I could go to the river to fetch some water. We're out of water."

"What are you doing this for? Go back to sleep."

"I'm really thirsty. I haven't had any water since noon. And it's not just for me. If I fetch the water now, I can make breakfast earlier tomorrow, which will make it easier for us to hit the road quickly."

"What does she want?" The guard with closed eyes woke up and asked his colleague.

"Suddenly says she wants to fetch water."

"Just go with her. I'll watch the other two for you."

"Ah, thanks." Sylvia picked up a bucket from the pile of luggage.

"Put it down," the first guard said. "I didn't say you could do it yourself."

"Forget it." His companion stood up and whispered to him. "Remember what Lord Shawl said? Don't scare the mute woman. You'll wake her up if this goes on. Just go with her and come back quickly."

"Get in front of me." The first guard frowned at Sylvia. "No tricks."

Thanking the two again, Sylvia took the bucket and headed toward the mountain stream they had passed by earlier in the day. The guard followed closely behind her. She stepped onto one of those dark paths, branches brushing past her.

About three minutes later, they arrived at their destination. It was a narrow stream, less than two meters at its narrowest point, its waters almost silently wetting the stones on either side.

"Hurry up," the guard said.

Sylvia squatted by the stream, closely observing the grayish ripples in the night. She still had a way out; she could fill the bucket with water and return to the camp. But she had already made up her mind. This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision; it was something she had resolved from the beginning of the journey. Now, she felt only excitement, not nervousness.

She stood up, turned around, and said to the guard, "You know, I really don't want to go to that place."

"Damn it, I knew it. I told you, no tricks. Do what you said you'd do. I won't make things hard for you, so don't cause me any trouble."

"Just listen to me, just a few words. I still don't know what happened. Cornwall suddenly told me I had to leave Stormwind with him..."

"I have no obligation to explain anything to you."

"Your superiors just want Cornwall and the mute woman to go somewhere else, right? And I'm just... Cornwall insisted I follow him."

"You're asking the wrong person. Apart from delivering you to that village, I have nothing to do with the rest."

"There must be more. I heard that once we get there, you'll be monitoring us for a while? That's what Cornwall said. Otherwise, there'd be no point in keeping us from running away the whole way."

"Shut up. Now, come back with me."

"No, please wait, just wait a little longer. Let me finish."

Sylvia took a step back, and the guard stopped. It was a good sign.

"I'm not planning to run away. I'll behave for the rest of the journey. But I can't live with Cornwall in that place for the rest of my life. He's old enough to be my father. I was stupid and made a mistake, but now I really regret it. My life can't just..."

"That's not my problem."

"I know." Sylvia stepped closer to him. "But I still hope you can help me. I'm talking about after we arrive there, after we've lived there for a while. When the tension eases and your boss isn't so strict, I want to ask you to help me leave him. I can't imagine living with someone like that."

"Don't worry; he'll die at least twenty years before you."

"But by then... I won't be who I am now. He's already ruined several years of my life. I can't take it anymore. Not to mention he'll be taking care of that mute woman. He won't have any care left for me."

She leaned forward slightly, her tone becoming urgent. The guard did not interrupt her.

"I hope you can understand how I feel now. You must. Being with him was my mistake at first, but I don't want to be wrong for the rest of my life. Later, after we've stayed there for a while, I'll definitely run away. It doesn't matter where I go, as long as I can get away from him. I hope when that time comes, you'll delay reporting it to your superiors... just give me a little more time to escape. That's all I'm asking. I don't plan to tell anyone else because I think you're the only one willing to listen to all this. And I wasn't wrong."

"Is that all? Even if I agree to help you, it'll be a long time before anything happens. I could change my mind at any moment and report your plans."

"I know. But I've already made up my mind and said it out loud. After we reach that village, you won't need to intervene; Cornwall will naturally keep a close eye on me. I won't have another chance to talk to you alone. Actually... I didn't expect you to agree to this request. I just had to say it."

"This does you no good."

"Yes. Even if you hadn't said that, I would've regretted it sooner or later."

"Let's go back."

"Have you refused?"

"I can't make you any promises."

"At least you didn't say it wasn't your concern again. That gives me a little hope. For now, that's enough for me. Thank you."

She approached him, placing her hands around his neck.

"I know I shouldn't ask for more... Could you hold me? God, I'm such a fool, babbling on."

After a moment's hesitation, the guard awkwardly wrapped his arms around Sylvia's waist. She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. After a while, she pressed her lips to his. The guard pulled away, but his reaction wasn't strong.

"Sorry, I just... wanted to forget about Cornwall for a while." After speaking, she looked into his eyes, confirming that he wasn't overtly opposed or disgusted, and kissed him again. This time, he kissed back. The beginning of a ritual Sylvia knew all too well.

"We don't have much time," he told her.

"Just a moment, please. I don't want to see Cornwall so soon."

"Don't mention his name in front of me."

"Sorry."

They lay down; he pressed on top of her, his hands quickly reaching under her skirt. During the past few days, Sylvia had observed and occasionally made physical contact, realizing that he was the more suitable of the two guards. Each time she deliberately got close to Cornwall, this guard would avoid looking directly at her. A few times, she had touched his fingers, not immediately pulling away, sensing his unease and turmoil through the faint contact. To her, the signals from men's minds were too easy to read; she no longer needed any other mental preparation to execute this plan.

Sylvia suddenly bit down hard on the guard's tongue. Reacting to the initial shock of pain, the guard attempted to withdraw his right hand from beneath her skirt and reach for the dagger at his waist. Sylvia clamped her thighs tightly, trapping his arm, and seized the moment to grasp the sharp stone she had held earlier. She struck the guard's temple with it twice. Then, she released her teeth, spitting out the nauseating half of his tongue, and forcefully pushed his body off hers. The guard, disoriented, instinctively swung his fist, landing a blow near her mouth. The impact immediately brought tears to her eyes; at that moment, she was unaware that two of her teeth had fallen into her throat. Overcome with anger, she smashed the guard's left eye with the stone. After hearing a strange cracking sound, she realized something more crucial and discarded the stone, pulling the dagger from his waist. After a brief hesitation, she plunged the blade into the side of his throat, pressing down on the hilt with both palms, her hands braced against her upper chest as if she were channeling all her strength into the act.

Fifteen seconds later, she released her grip and stood up, her chest covered in blood. Apart from her lips, she now felt intense pain from her waist, where the guard had broken her skin during his final struggle.

She looked at the... was it a corpse? Was he really dead? She recalled the brief time she had spent with her father, Polunius, during her childhood. Though she had seen many things her father had tried desperately to hide, it wasn't until she was twelve that she began to understand the nature of his work. What would her father think if he saw this scene? Sylvia wanted to ponder further, but she had no time. The ordeal was not yet over.

She could hear someone approaching quickly. The other guard was coming. Even if he hadn't heard the commotion, the time that had passed was enough to justify his approach.

Sylvia thought for two seconds, then withdrew the dagger, wiping it slightly. She tore open the already damaged upper part of her dress, exposing her body. She wiped away some of the excess blood on her chest and hid the dagger between her skin and the fabric at her back. The footsteps grew louder; she began to stagger forward, forcing herself to cry. Even a single second might suffice—she needed the man to think that she was the one who had been attacked. At the very least, she needed to prevent him from quickly discovering the body.

From the sound, she knew more than one person was approaching. To prevent their target from escaping, the guard had likely brought Cornwall along. This gave her more of a chance. She didn't expect Cornwall to take any brave actions, only that he would be smart enough not to stand by and watch her fall into danger.

Sylvia would follow Cornwall wherever he went, but it had to be out of their own genuine will. Panthonia Shawl had already indirectly manipulated their lives for years; she couldn't live out the rest of her days this way. Even if she failed, it would only mean returning to the path that everyone must eventually travel.