Hide and Seek

The cave was dark and damp, with the smell of earth and moss. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like jagged teeth, while massive stalagmites rose from the floor, their imposing forms casting long shadows.

Lyra dismounted, leading her horse into the cavern. Its hooves clattered softly on the rocky floor, each sound echoing off the damp walls.

She felt a chill run down her spine, but the cave seemed like the best option.

The darkness swallowed them, but she couldn't afford to stop—not with the knights so close behind.

Her fragile new body trembled with every movement, unaccustomed to the grueling pace of a desperate flight.

The horse, sharing in her exhaustion, snorted and slowed despite her urging. "Come on, just a bit further," she whispered, her voice tight with urgency.

As they ventured further into the cave, the light from the entrance dimmed, swallowed by encroaching darkness. The air grew cooler, and the faint echo of dripping water became a constant companion.

Lyra guided the horse behind a cluster of rock formations, taking a moment to steady her breathing. She ran a hand along the rough stone, feeling its coolness seep into her skin.

'At the end, my best hiding place is a cave.'

A bitter chuckle escaped her. So, this is where she had ended up—hiding in a cave like some hunted animal. It was the second time she'd found herself in such a situation since arriving in this world, a twist of fate she couldn't help but resent.

Urging the horse to lie down behind the stone formations, she crouched beside it, her hand running over the rough surface of the rock. Her thoughts raced, the instinctual calm of her former life as an assassin settling over her like a cloak. "Don't panic," she murmured to herself. "Assess the situation. Prepare for the worst."

Outside, the muffled sound of a horse approaching drew her attention, the familiar rhythm of hooves quickening her pulse. She held her breath as footsteps followed, growing louder, more deliberate. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger, the cold steel grounding her in the moment.

"Princess Aylira," a voice called out, steady and composed, reverberating against the stone walls. "I know you're in here. The Crown Prince commands that you be brought to the palace."

Lyra's grip on the dagger tightened. '...Princess Aylira', she thought bitterly.

That name wasn't hers. She didn't belong in this world, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let them drag her into a life she hadn't chosen.

She remained silent.

The knight stepped further into the cave, his silhouette tall and imposing against the dim light.

"Your family is alive," he continued, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "The Crown Prince spared them. Come with me, and you can see them again."

Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of a family she barely remembered. Memories, like electric shocks, flashed across her consciousness—unfamiliar faces of a middle-aged couple smiling warmly at her, a young men laughing at their side, all drinking tea in a glass garden.

'Ugh… What kind of memories are these? Do they belong to this body? Are they her family?' She frowned, a momentary pain searing through her head.

The rumor she heard was that this body's family had died; nothing was left. How could she trust this unknown knight from the enemy kingdom? But from the rumors, she had also died. Maybe there was a slight possibility that they were still alive, even if only a little.

However, she quickly pushed it aside, focusing on the present. This wasn't about family; this was about survival.

"I'm not going with you," she finally said, stepping out from behind the stalagmites, her voice cold, detached.

The knight was visibly shocked. "Do you refuse to obey the Crown Prince's orders?"

Pointing her dagger towards the knight, she replied in a low tone, "His orders mean nothing to me."

The knight paused, his eyes narrowing as he took in her defiant stance. He sighed, the sound heavy with resignation, and drew his sword with a smooth, practiced motion.

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this," he said, leveling the blade at her. "But if you won't come willingly, I have no choice but to bring you by force."

Lyra's lips curled into a smirk, though it didn't reach his eyes. 'Force? You have no idea who you're dealing with.'

She shifted her weight, readying herself, every instinct honed by years of experience in a world far different from this one.

The knight lunged, his movements precise, but Lyra darted to the side, narrowly evading the blade's deadly arc. She countered with a quick slash of her dagger, but the knight's armor deflected the blow, the sound of metal against metal ringing through the cave.

The knight, shocked by her skill, grumbled, "A princess who can't do anything can fight back?"

She danced backward, keeping a wary eye on the knight's sword. "Hm? Are you surprised?"

His reach was longer, his strikes more powerful. She couldn't afford to let him get too close. Yet the confined space worked to her advantage, forcing him to fight on her terms, but the odds were still against her.

'This wasn't about overpowering him; it was about outlasting him, outsmarting him.'

Once again, Lyra ducked under one blow, then twisted to the side to avoid another. Her dagger was quick, darting in to slash at his exposed wrist, but the knight anticipated her move, pivoting to block her strike with the flat of his blade.

The knight pressed his advantage, his sword flashing in the dim light. Lyra parried, her dagger moving in tight, controlled arcs. Each clash sent vibrations up her arm, her muscles straining against the impact.

'He's good,' she thought, her mind racing. 'I can't let him pin me down.'

She shifted her stance, crouching lower to present a smaller target. The knight lunged again, his sword aiming for her shoulder. She twisted away, feeling the rush of air as the blade passed inches from her chest.

Her dagger flashed out, aiming for his wrist, but he pulled back just in time.

On her second attempt, he couldn't avoid it. When he swung again, she darted out, slashing at his unprotected thigh. The blade cut through his trousers, drawing blood, but it was a shallow wound, not enough to slow him down.

The knight's frustration was evident in the tightening of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes. He advanced relentlessly, each strike heavier than the last. Lyra's arms ached, her breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps.

She dodged another thrust, her feet slipping on the damp stone. The knight's blade grazed her arm, the pain sharp and immediate. Blood welled up, soaking into her sleeve.

She gritted her teeth, staying on the defensive, deflecting the onslaught with her dagger. Her movements were growing slower, her body weakening under the strain. She needed an opening, a way to turn the tide before her strength gave out completely.

The confidence showed on the knight's expression. "Let me ask you again. Will you obey the Crown Prince's order?"

"No."

She answered shortly, resulting in the knight's attacks becoming more precise as he learned her patterns. He drove her back, each swing of his sword forcing her closer to the cave wall, narrowing her options.

Another sudden sharp pain shot through her thigh as his blade sliced into her flesh. She stumbled, her leg buckling under the injury.

'Shit,' she cursed silently, forcing herself to keep moving. 'I need to make some distance. I can't take this much longer. I'm already at my limit.'

Desperation surged through her as she blocked another strike, barely managing to hold her ground.

Then, just as the knight seemed to gain the upper hand, something changed. He stumbled, a sharp cry escaping his lips as he clutched at his leg.