Chapter 81: Red Chapel in the Arenavida

Deep in the southern territories, far from the bloodied roads and collapsing altars of the north, south of San Cordero, laid the Arenavida. 

The land here was ancient — a mountainous desert cradled by dry winds and thick forests, where jagged cliffs cut the horizon like teeth. It was the kind of place one could vanish forever in, if they wanted.

Or if they needed to.

The perfect place for a rebel stronghold.

Aurora exhaled slowly, slumped against a sandstone pillar outside the Red Chapel — a half-ruined temple now used as a safe house. Her shoulders ached from travel and toil. She rolled them back, closing her eyes as the desert wind kissed her cheeks.

All around her, most of the rebels were asleep, scattered across woven mats, old pews, and makeshift tents. Soft snores echoed through the night like a lullaby.

Still, she could not rest.

More and more people arrive by the day, more tents to build. More mouths to feed, people to direct.

And then her thoughts turned to Elena and Niegal.

It's been months…

Months without a single confirmed update about Elena or Niegal. Only whispers. Rumors. A single message from the Behike "They live, but they are not ready."

"Doña Guabancex and her Lion" she half laughed, if she hadn't seen the utter waste Elena had laid with her own eyes she'd be a bit skeptical.

The stars above blinked like eyes watching her.

She folded her hands and whispered a prayer.

"Please… let her be safe. Let them be safe. Give us a sign. Something."

Phineus had long since wandered off; somewhere out near the cliffs with a group of eager young fighters, rallying them with stories of House Matteo's rebellion. He had grown overnight into a leader, his shoulders heavy with responsibility. He had his father's eyes.

Wherever the bastard was.

Aurora let out a short sigh, biting her bottom lip.

Then, like a thunderclap against silence, an arrow thudded against the chapel wall opposite her.

She startled, leaping to her feet before ducking low.

No sound. No footsteps. Just a note, tied with a blue string, fluttering slightly in the wind.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Blue string.

No wax seal. No crest. No signature.

Just blue string.

Only one person in the entire realm ever used it.

She glanced around, the others still asleep, before she reached out with trembling fingers and snapped the arrow free. Her heart pounded as she unrolled the parchment.

I am alive. And I am coming to help.

That was all.

But it was enough.

Her hands shook. Her vision blurred with emotion.

The firelight caught in her eyes as she read it again and again.

He's alive.

After all this time…