The column moved through a narrow valley by late afternoon.
Steep hills rose on both sides of the road, their rocky slopes scattered with dry grass and broken stone.
Elowen walked near the center of the soldiers this time.
Rowan had ordered it that morning.
"Stay where I can see you," he had said.
She wasn't sure if that meant protection—or caution. Probably both.
A faint whisper of wind brushed through the valley. Something about the place made her uneasy.
Then—snap! A crossbow bolt whistled through the air.
"AMBUSH!" a soldier shouted.
Rhaedor soldiers poured down from the rocky hillsides, crossbows loaded and ready.
Rowan's voice cut through the chaos.
"Shields up! Form a line!"
The soldiers reacted instantly, steel flashing, swords drawn, as they scrambled for cover behind wagons and rocks.
Elowen ducked behind a supply cart, watching the bolts thud into the ground around her. Her heart slammed in her chest.
Rowan leapt from his horse, drawing his sword in a smooth motion. He struck the first enemy down and turned toward another—but in the chaos, he didn't see the third soldier.
The man raised his crossbow, aimed directly at Rowan's back, and drew the string tight.
Time slowed.
Elowen saw it clearly—the dark wood, the tension in the string, the deadly bolt aimed at Rowan.
Without thinking, she ran.
The bolt fired.
Elowen threw herself forward. Pain exploded across her chest, but she collided with Rowan, her red hair spilling like fire across his arm.
Rowan felt the body hit him and instinctively turned. His eyes caught hers for a brief second, shock flashing across his face.
Then rage.
"BEHIND YOU!" a soldier shouted.
Rowan charged, sword swinging in a brutal arc. The Rhaedor crossbowman had barely time to react before Rowan's blade cut him down.
He didn't even look at the body. He turned back immediately—toward Elowen.
She lay there, fragile and trembling, crimson hair splayed across the dirt.
"You… idiot girl," Rowan muttered, lifting her gently.
Her fingers weakly clutched his coat.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Her eyes closed.
The world went dark.
Cold air rushed into her lungs.
The wooden door creaked open.
"Take your things," Maris Vale said.
Elowen's eyes widened.
Her hands shot up to her chest.
No pain.
No wound.
Just the thin morning air.
The same village road.
The same crowd.
The same moment.
Her breath escaped in a quiet laugh.
It worked.
She had chosen death.
And the world had begun again.
But this time…
Elowen tightened her grip around the small knife at her belt.
She remembered how Rowan corrected her grip.
How he told her to relax her hands.
How to swing.
This life would be different.
Because now…
She was learning how to live forever.