A flight from darkness

The Forest of Shadows

The forest was shrouded in darkness, an oppressive gloom that seemed to swallow every sound except for Mira's shallow breaths and the distant cries of unseen creatures. The trees twisted upward like skeletal fingers, their branches clawing at the moonless sky. Mira's chest pounded as she stumbled through the thickets, her legs trembling with exhaustion. Her arms ached from holding the baby prince, his tiny cries piercing the silence.

"Shh," she whispered, her voice cracking as she cradled him closer. "Please, don't cry, my sweet one. I know you're hungry… I know."

Every step felt like a battle. The air was thick with the stench of damp earth and decaying leaves. Shadows danced on the periphery of her vision, and every rustle of the underbrush made her heart leap. She was being hunted—she could feel it.

But she couldn't stop. She wouldn't.

Mira's mind raced with fragmented thoughts as she pushed forward. Why did I run? The memory of the palace gates loomed in her mind, the sound of shouting guards still fresh. She had risked everything to escape, to protect the prince. But at what cost? Now they were lost in the Forbidden Forest, a place whispered about in fearful tones.

It was said the forest was alive, its dark spirits feeding on despair and fear. Mira had always dismissed such stories as myths told to frighten children. Now, she wasn't so sure.

The baby's cries grew louder, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Hush, little one," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I promise I'll find a way out."

Ahead, the trees parted to reveal a river, its surface shimmering faintly in the dim light. Relief flooded her chest. This was the border—the natural divide between the Kingdom of Fenalore and Caldrith. If she could cross, they might have a chance.

But her hope was short-lived. The river was wild and angry, its currents churning like a living beast. It was too deep to wade through, and the idea of swimming while holding the baby was unthinkable.

Exhausted, Mira sank to her knees at the riverbank. Her tears fell freely as she gazed at the baby in her arms. His tiny face was serene despite his earlier cries, his features so much like his father's.

"You're as beautiful as him," she murmured, brushing a finger against his cheek. "But I don't know if we'll make it out alive. If I can't cross this river…" Her voice broke, and she buried her face in his blanket. "I'll have no choice but to go back. To give myself up."

The thought was unbearable. Returning to Fenalore would mean death for her and the prince.

"They say babies are blessings," she said, her voice rising in desperation. "Prove it to me now! Help me! I can't let us die here, not in this cursed forest!" Her cries echoed across the river, carrying her despair into the void.

From the shadows behind her, a raspy voice broke the silence. "Why do women cry so much?"

Mira froze, her blood turning to ice. She spun around, clutching the baby tightly. "Who's there?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please… don't hurt me. I'm innocent."

The voice chuckled, low and menacing. "Innocent? No one who wanders this far into the Forbidden Forest is innocent."

A shadow moved among the trees, and Mira's heart pounded in her chest. Finally, the figure stepped into the moonlight—a hunched old man, his face lined with age and weariness. He leaned on a wooden staff, and behind him was a small, weathered boat tethered to the shore.

"What are you doing here, child?" he asked, his tone softer now but still laced with suspicion.

"I'm…" Mira hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "I'm from Fenalore. Please, I need to cross to the other side. Can you help me?"

The old man's brows knitted together. "Fenalore? Never heard of it. Are you sure you're not from Caldrith?"

"I'm sure," Mira said firmly. "Please, I beg you. Help me cross. I'll do anything—I'll work for you, whatever you need. Just help us."

The old man studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering on the baby in her arms. Finally, he sighed. "Get in. Quickly. This forest is no place for you or that child."

Relief washed over Mira, and she climbed into the boat, her legs shaking. The old man untied the vessel and pushed it into the water, his movements slow but deliberate.

---

The River Crossing

The boat creaked as it glided over the water, the river's currents lapping against its sides. Mira held the baby close, her eyes darting to the dark waters below. She could feel something watching them—a presence beneath the surface.

"Is that your child?" the old man asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes," Mira said softly.

The man's gaze lingered on the baby. "Do you have family in Caldrith?"

Mira shook her head. "No. I don't know anyone there. I… I have nowhere to go."

The old man was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he said, "Keep your voice down. These waters aren't safe. The less you think, the better. Let your mind flow, like the river beneath us."

Mira nodded, though her mind was anything but calm. Doubts gnawed at her. Who is this man? Can I trust him? What if he plans to sell me as a slave?

She tried to push the thoughts away, focusing instead on the rhythmic sound of the oars slicing through the water.

---

Arrival in Caldrith

When they finally reached the far bank, Mira felt a wave of relief, but it was short-lived. The land of Caldrith was no less foreboding than the forest she had just escaped. The trees here were gnarled and twisted, their branches heavy with moss. The air was colder, sharper, and carried a sense of foreboding.

The old man helped her out of the boat, carrying the now-sleeping baby as she stumbled onto solid ground. "Come with me," he said, leading her down a narrow path through the trees.

After what felt like hours, they reached a small house nestled in a clearing. It was humble and weathered, the wood darkened with age.

"This is my home," the old man said, pushing the door open.

Mira stepped inside but barely made it past the threshold before her legs gave out. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was the old man's face, shadowed in the dim light, his expression unreadable.