The Choice to Flee

The inn felt quieter than usual.

Not because there weren't people downstairs—there were still drunk adventurers stumbling about, still merchants counting their coin—but because the group had gone completely silent.

Mira sat at the edge of her chair, arms crossed, her face tense with anger. Leila rested her chin on her hands, looking deep in thought. Tomas, uncharacteristically serious, was rubbing his temples. Beren leaned against the wall, looking frustrated.

Arlan… just stared at the table.

The burning execution still lingered in his mind—the screaming, the way the flames consumed her, the smell of charred flesh. He had been frozen. He knew it. If someone had called him out in the crowd, he wouldn't have been able to lie.

Finally, Mira broke the silence. "We need to leave."

Tomas sighed, shifting in his seat. "Mira, if we run now, won't that make us look more suspicious?"

Leila frowned. "And staying here isn't suspicious?"

Mira slammed her hand on the table. "They're looking for necromancers! Do you really think this is going to stop at just one execution?"

No one had an answer to that.

Beren grunted. "Leaving's the right move."

Arlan swallowed hard. He didn't want to leave. Something inside him—something buried deep—was angry. Furious. A part of him wanted to fight back.

But what could he do?

He wasn't strong enough.

Not yet.

Mira exhaled. "We move at dawn. Before they tighten their grip on the town."

The others nodded.

Arlan just stared at the wooden table, gripping the edge.

But the Order was already moving.

That Night

Arlan lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

Sleep wouldn't come. His mind was still in the execution square. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the flames. The girl's face. The Holy Order standing over her like righteous executioners.

His fists clenched.

A knock at the door startled him.

His heart stopped.

For a moment, panic surged through him—had the Order found him?

Then a voice, soft and uncertain.

"…Arlan?"

Mira.

Arlan hesitated before standing, walking over and cracking the door open.

Mira stood there in a thin nightgown, the candlelight from the hallway casting a soft glow on her face. Her hair was still damp from washing, and—Arlan immediately realized he was looking directly at the exposed curve of her collarbone and cleavage.

His brain short-circuited.

Mira, unaware of his absolute internal panic, bit her lip and glanced to the side. "I can't sleep."

Arlan swallowed. Hard. "Uh… okay?"

Mira fidgeted, looking… almost embarrassed. "Can I stay here tonight?"

Arlan's brain officially stopped working.

"W-WHAT?"

Mira crossed her arms. "Not like that, idiot. Just—for comfort."

Right. Comfort. Totally normal request.

Arlan's face burned, but he moved aside to let her in.

Then—

"Oi, Mira."

Leila's voice.

Arlan barely held in a whimper of despair.

Leila stood in the hallway, arms crossed, narrowing her eyes at Mira. "Can you sleep with me tonight?."

Mira blinked. "What? Why?"

Leila hesitated, glancing away. "I just… I don't wanna be alone tonight, okay?"

Mira sighed and stood up. Arlan's soul left his body.

"Fine," she muttered, glancing back at him. "Guess you're sleeping alone, then."

Arlan didn't respond. He was still too busy dying inside.

The moment the door closed, he collapsed onto the bed.

And then the thoughts hit him.

Mira. Nightgown. In his room. His bed.

His very messed-up, sleep-deprived brain immediately started picturing things he absolutely should not be picturing.

He groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "Gods kill me."

Sleep never came.

Not because of the execution this time.

But because Mira's bare shoulders refused to leave his mind.

Before Dawn – The Escape

The town was still dark when the group moved.

Their bags were packed, weapons ready. The plan was simple—leave before the Order locked the town down.

But trouble had already found them.

As they made their way through the quieter backstreets, the Order's presence was everywhere.

Paladins patrolled the roads. Clerics questioned tavern owners and shopkeepers. A paladin was questioning the innkeeper as they passed.

Arlan kept his hood low, forcing himself not to look suspicious.

They kept moving. They were almost at the gate.

Then—Arlan felt it.

A paladin, standing nearby, turned his head. Their eyes met.

Arlan's heart stopped.

The paladin took a step forward.

"Hey—"

Mira grabbed Arlan's wrist, yanking him into an alley.

The group ran.

They barely made it to the outskirts before the city's gates slammed shut.

They had escaped.

But the Holy Order knew someone had slipped past them.

It wouldn't take long before they started hunting.