chapter 7:-A Pact in the Shadows

The forest felt different as night fell—darker, heavier, filled with unseen eyes. Every step forward felt like stepping deeper into the jaws of something waiting to snap shut.

Elara's breath was shallow as she followed Kael through the thick underbrush, her heart pounding against her ribs. The escape from the palace had been harrowing, but the weight of what came next felt even greater. They were not just running.

They were looking for allies.

The rebels.

Kael had spoken of them in whispers, of pockets of resistance hiding deep in the wilds, fighting against Aldred's rule. Now, they had no choice but to seek them out.

Or be caught and dragged back to the king's mercy.

Kael moved swiftly, his gaze sharp as he scanned the path ahead. Elara kept close behind, the dagger he had given her clutched tightly in her hand.

"How much farther?" she whispered.

"Not far," Kael murmured, voice barely above the rustling leaves. "But we have to be careful."

Elara didn't need the warning. The deeper they went, the more the forest felt unnatural—silent, as if holding its breath.

Then, Kael stopped.

Elara barely managed to halt before colliding into him. She followed his gaze and felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Figures emerged from the shadows between the trees, nearly silent, bows drawn, arrows nocked.

They had found the rebels.

Or rather, the rebels had found them.

The leader stepped forward, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light. He was tall, lean, wrapped in a worn cloak that blended with the night. A curved blade rested at his hip, his hand relaxed but ready.

Kael straightened, his expression unreadable. "Dain."

The man's head tilted slightly. "Kael."

His voice was smooth but carried the edge of someone who was not easily fooled. His gaze flicked to Elara, sharp and assessing.

"So," he murmured, "this is the lost queen."

Elara tensed but met his stare. "My name is Elara."

Dain chuckled, amused. "Oh, I know who you are."

The other rebels shifted slightly, eyes flickering between them. There was no open hostility—yet. But neither was there trust.

Dain turned his attention back to Kael. "I thought you were done with war."

Kael's jaw tightened. "War isn't done with me."

Dain considered this for a moment before speaking again. "And what do you want from us?"

Kael's answer was simple. "Shelter. And an alliance."

Dain exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "We don't give shelter freely, and alliances are not made on words alone."

Elara spoke before she could stop herself. "Then what do you want?"

Dain's gaze snapped back to her, interest flickering in his eyes.

"A queen who asks what she must give, instead of what she can take." He studied her for a moment before his lips curled into a smirk. "I like that."

His expression darkened. "But trust is earned. If you want to stay, you'll have to prove yourselves first."

Kael crossed his arms. "How?"

Dain glanced at one of his men, who stepped forward. The rebel had a fresh wound on his arm, blood seeping through his sleeve. His face was grim.

"Our scouts went missing west of here," Dain said. "We sent them to track a patrol of the king's men. They should have returned hours ago."

Kael's expression hardened. "You think they were captured?"

Dain shrugged. "Or worse. Either way, we need to know what happened to them."

He met Kael's gaze. "You bring them back—or bring back their killers. Then we'll talk about shelter."

The unspoken message was clear.

Prove you're worth keeping alive.

Kael didn't hesitate. "Fine."

Elara swallowed but nodded. "We'll do it."

Dain's smirk returned. "Good. Try not to die."

The western woods felt different from the rest of the forest—darker, the trees more twisted. Fog clung to the ground, curling around their ankles like grasping fingers.

Elara kept close to Kael, gripping her dagger tightly. The further they walked, the more uneasy she felt.

Something was wrong.

Kael stopped suddenly, his hand raising in a silent command. Elara froze.

"What is it?" she whispered.

Kael crouched, brushing his fingers against the dirt. "Tracks. Fresh."

Elara's stomach twisted. "The scouts?"

Kael's eyes darkened. "No."

A twig snapped.

Both of them turned, weapons raised.

From the mist, a body slumped against a tree.

Elara's breath caught. She stepped forward cautiously, heart hammering. The man was still, his cloak torn, his face pale.

One of the missing scouts.

Dead.

Kael moved to check for signs of life, but there was none. His throat had been cut cleanly, no sign of a struggle.

"This was an execution," Kael muttered.

Elara turned her head and spotted movement in the distance. "Kael," she whispered.

He followed her gaze.

Shadows moved between the trees. Slow. Deliberate.

Then, in the dim light, the gleam of armor.

The king's men.

And they were waiting.

Kael's grip tightened around his sword. "They knew we'd come looking."

Elara swallowed hard. "What do we do?"

Kael glanced around, mind working fast. "We don't fight them here. Too many places to get surrounded."

Elara took a shaky breath. "Then we run?"

Kael's eyes met hers. "Not yet."

Before she could question him, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind a thick tree trunk. The moment they were hidden, he lowered his voice.

"We need to separate them. They'll expect us to run as a pair."

Elara's stomach churned. "You want to split up?"

Kael hesitated, just for a moment. "Only long enough to divide them."

She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him that it was a terrible idea, that if they got separated, she wasn't sure she'd be able to find him again.

But there was no time for fear.

So she nodded.

Kael's hand squeezed hers briefly. Then he whispered, "Go."

And she ran.

Branches tore at her cloak as she sprinted through the woods, heart pounding like a war drum. Behind her, shouts rang out—orders being given, boots crashing through the underbrush.

They were following her.

She forced herself to move faster. If Kael's plan worked, the soldiers would split their forces, giving him the chance to take them down one by one.

But that still left her alone.

A root caught her foot, and she stumbled, barely catching herself before falling. She had never been trained for this—for running, for fighting.

For survival.

A hand grabbed her from behind.

She gasped, twisting, trying to free herself, but the grip was iron-strong.

"Got you," a voice sneered.

Cold fear slashed through her veins.

She fought, kicking, clawing, but her attacker was too strong.

Then—

A blur of motion. A flash of steel.

Her captor jerked, choking.

Kael's sword cut clean through his throat.

Elara gasped as the man fell, blood pooling into the dirt.

Kael grabbed her hand. "We need to move."

Elara barely had time to breathe before they were running again, the king's men still on their heels.

The hunt was far from over.

And the real battle was just beginning.