FUGITIVE: PART 1

We moved quickly into the forest before us as this sun was already dipping on the horizon. Triandal was at the front, setting our pace. We needed to put as much distance as possible between ourselves and the prison before nightfall. Yet, the need for rest was becoming impossible to ignore.

The forest glowed in hues of orange and gold as the last light of day filtered through the canopy, casting shadows that danced across the trees. My muscles were aching, still taut from the relentless exertion of our escape and my magic felt like a smoldering ember within me, drained but ready to flare back to life if needed.

The prison guards would have sent word and it wouldn't take long before patrols combed the surrounding areas. 

As we paused near a small clearing, Triandal turned to me, his voice low and steady. "If I'm correct, there's a village not far from here," he said. "A human settlement, but close enough to the border that they trade with my people. We can rest there for the night."

I nodded, though I felt a sense of unease at the back of my mind. A human village so close to the border would likely harbor sympathizers with the empire. But we had little choice.

Soon the village came into view. It was small, a cluster of thatched-roof buildings surrounded by fields that lay barren under the fading light of dusk. Smoke rose from a few chimneys and faint lantern light flickered through shuttered windows. We approached cautiously, keeping to the shadows of the tree line. Triandal sent one of his men ahead to scout, and the wait felt like an eternity, with even the rustle of leaves keeping us on edge.

When the scout returned, his report was brief but relieving. "Quiet. No signs of patrols," he said.

We slipped into an abandoned barn at the edge of the village, its weathered wooden frame leaning with a weariness that mirrored our own. As we led the horses into the barn we murmured reassurances, our hands steadying them and keeping them calm.

The elves and mercenaries wasted no time. Many sank onto the scattered hay, their exhaustion visible in the droop of their shoulders and the way they let their weapons rest unguarded beside them. But Triandal, ever the General, wasn't about to let us settle.

"On your feet," he barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the fatigue weighing on the group. "We need supplies—food, water, clothing. Move quickly and quietly. We don't have time to rest yet."

His orders sent a ripple of movement through the barn as groups were hastily formed. Weapons were checked, strategies exchanged, and within moments, the elves slipped back out into the night to raid the now sleeping village for everything we might need.

I stayed behind, leaning against the rough wooden wall near the door. A sliver of moonlight filtered through a narrow gap in the boards, casting a streak across the barn floor. Through the gap, I watched the village. My unease still lingered.

Was it just the memory of the prison, or was it something more? I tried to push the thought away, but I couldn't help but wonder if eyes were watching us from the dark, waiting for the moment we'd made ourselves vulnerable.

For now, though, there was only the sound of the horses shifting restlessly and the distant murmur of the elves slipping through the village.

As his men worked, Triandal approached me. The dim light of the barn caught the sharp angles of his face as he stopped a few paces away, arms crossed.

"At dawn, my men and I are heading toward Kanesera," he said, naming the elven capital. "If you and the other humans wish to accompany us, you are more than welcome to do so."

His offer sat in the air, and for a moment, as I studied him. 

I nodded. "I'll come," I said finally. "But don't mistake this for loyalty—to you or your queen."

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, his lips curling into a smirk. "I wouldn't dream of it," he replied before walking away.

With that, he turned and walked back toward his men. His words hung in my mind, a subtle reminder that the road ahead would demand more than strength—it would demand alliances, however fragile they might be, especially as I am still learning about my new abilities.

As the elves moved through the barn, packing supplies and readying for the next leg of the journey, I remained at the gap in the door and over the course of the evening, I spoke with the mercenaries who had escaped with us. 

"We've decided to head west," one of them said, his voice steady but with a touch of regret. "We know a few of the others had planned to go that way too and we are hoping to meet up with them. We can hopefully rebuild our lives—or what's left of them—away from the Empire's reach."

I nodded, understanding their choice. The west promised some anonymity, even if it lacked certainty. "Good luck and watch your backs out there." I said simply.

"One day... we hope we can repay you." another one added. "The Empire's made our lives hell too. Maybe in time, we can return the favor."

Their words carried a weight of commitment I hadn't expected from them, and for a moment, I felt a flicker of gratitude. 

One of Triandal's men eventually approached me, offering to take over my watch position by the door. He was unlike the others—slightly taller and leaner. He had short, dark brown, swept back hair. Silver-framed spectacles perched delicately on his nose, glinting faintly in the moon light. His sharp eyes, studied me with a mix of curiosity and calculation.

"I haven't introduced myself," he said, his tone calm and measured. "My name is Ellisar Nerikrana. I'm a strategist—both on the battlefield and in the halls of power. I serve directly under Triandal and House Fenmyar."

I extend my arm for a handshake, yet I was wary of his intentions. "Shepherd Varland." I said as we shook hands. 

Ellisar smiled faintly, adjusting his silver-framed spectacles as he leaned against the barn's wooden wall. "You're an interesting one, Shepherd—especially for a human. I watched you fight during our escape. The power you wield is... remarkable. Though, I believe that it's not just destructive; it could be transformative. You have so much potential and I intend to help you in any way I can."

His words hung in the air, and I studied him carefully, searching for any trace of deceit or ulterior motive. But his gaze remained steady, filled with quiet confidence and something even rarer—hope. After a moment, I nodded, acknowledging his words but keeping my own guarded. Trust would take more than flattery, no matter how sincere it sounded.

Ellisar pushed off the wall and glanced toward the others, who were still busy preparing for the journey. "For now, you should rest," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "We'll pick up this conversation once we reach Kanesera. Until then, conserve your strength. You'll need it for what's to come."

With that, I gave another slight nod and moved to join the others.

As the night wore on, the barn fell quite. The faint rustle of hay and the occasional snort from the horses were the only sounds that broke the silence. One by one, the others surrendered to their exhaustion, their breaths evening out as sleep claimed them.

Finally, the events of the day caught up with me. My body, worn down from the relentless pace of our escape, began to succumb to the heavy pull of fatigue. I closed my eyes, letting the quiet embrace of the barn lull me into a restless but much-needed sleep.