Chapter 88: Into the Night, a Journey
It was time.
In the half-light of evening, Elena and Niegal moved through the sanctuary in silence, helping each other fasten belts, check bags, and brush off dust from their traveling cloaks.
Elena pulled her loose linen blouse over her growing belly, tucking it into a well-worn skirt. Her elbow-length leather gloves were tight against her arms, the only armor she could wear without discomfort. With a touch of makeup and a blessing from the Behike, the spiral scars around her eyes softened into something almost ethereal—like faint shimmer left by moonlight. She wore her pendant under her shirt, the magic warming her chest along with the new sigil from the night before.
The Behike had taught her how to bind a soft girdle around her belly, hand-woven and charmed with subtle protection magic. It didn't silence her pain, but it supported her body just enough to help her walk the long road ahead.
Niegal, standing near the door, adjusted the strap on his shoulder bag. He breathed slowly, steady, sharp. The ache in his side, the one that had haunted him since battle, was finally dulling. With time, he could heal himself fully. But that didn't matter.
He wasn't worried for himself.
His mind ran constantly. Every bump in the road. Every bridge. Every person they might encounter between here and the Red Chapel camp.
He knew the terrain by heart. He'd chosen it long ago, hidden it from maps, built its core infrastructure with trusted allies before the Church had exiled him. A safe haven. A stronghold.
But now… with Elena pregnant?
His jaw clenched.
Seamus had waited too long.
Waited to act. Waited to protect her. Waited to choose her.
Niegal loved his nephew like a son. But this? This was different.
He wouldn't hesitate.
Whatever it took, he'd get them to safety. No matter the cost.
Deep inside, he felt the rumble of a lion's roar.
He glanced at Elena. She was hugging the Behike tightly, whispering something into her ear. The old woman smiled, eyes wet, as she gently released her.
Niegal's throat tightened.
Family, he thought, stunned by the word.
I'm… a husband. A father.
Elena turned toward him. Their eyes met, and nothing else needed to be said.
Wrapped in their cloaks, they stepped out of the sanctum that had protected them for over six long months.
Hand in hand, Elena and Niegal stepped into the marketplace, the scent of closing stalls and salt in the air.
Vendors packed up their wares. The sun dipped low over the sea. The tide crept in, eager and whispering.
Niegal led Elena up a narrow path—hidden stairs tucked between two shuttered buildings, old stone slick from dew and moss. Elena braced her hand beneath her belly as they climbed, easing the strain on her back and hips.
Above them, the night opened wide. Wind brushed their faces, fresh and cold. Moonlight lit the cobblestone road ahead, turning the world silver.
Through the upper room of a shuttered guild hall, they stepped onto a balcony, and then- into the open street.
Their eyes searched the path. They kept their heads low, their bodies close, their steps in rhythm.
The journey had begun.
They paused at the edge of the square, just for a moment. They turned into each other's arms, foreheads pressed together, a silent vow exchanged through breath alone.
No matter what came they would stay together.
Niegal kissed her brow. Elena closed her eyes.
Then they walked into the night.