The eight riders and seven horses moved cautiously through the dense thicket, stepping carefully to avoid snapping dry branches and leaving behind no obvious trail. At the rear of the procession, two riders were busy scattering a fine, grey powder across their tracks.
Lunethia leaned forward, lightly tapping Rena's shoulder and pointing back toward the tail of the line. "What... what are they doing?" she whispered, her curiosity momentarily outweighing her fear.
Rena offered a thin, knowing smile. "Those are specialized spices. If the Kingdom sends trackers—hounds and the like—they won't be able to catch so much as a whiff of our scent."
Lunethia blinked, her voice tight with anxiety. "Is it because... because you killed those two soldiers?"
Rena shrugged, a touch of bitterness coloring her playful tone. "To be honest, killing those two doesn't make much of a difference. The problem is the target the Kingdom is actually hunting—which is us."
Lunethia's heart gave a violent thud. "You?"
"Mhm," Rena chirped, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Because, you see, we're bandits!"
The word hit Lunethia like a physical blow. Her balance wavered, and she nearly tumbled from the horse, saved only by Rena's quick hand steadying her waist.
Rena's tone suddenly turned frigid. "Relax. We may be outlaws, but we don't prey on common folk. We only strike at the bloated, corrupt nobility of the Lunaris Kingdom."
Lunethia fell silent, a complex swirl of emotions knotting in her chest.
After traversing shallow rivers, hidden caves, and sweeping meadows, the group finally arrived at a small village tucked away behind a screen of ancient, towering trees.
The settlement was modest but radiated a sense of peace and warmth. Wisps of hearth-smoke drifted from the chimneys of small cottages, and soft lamplight flickered behind windows in the deepening night. As the riders entered, the villagers paused to bow their heads in deep respect; it was clear these "bandits" held a position of immense prestige here.
As the party dismounted, Lunethia noticed one rider remained slumped in their saddle. A man of massive, hulking build stepped forward, carefully lifting the rider onto his back and carrying them toward a nearby hut as if they were a precious weight.
Lunethia couldn't help but step forward, her voice laced with concern. "Is he... is he alright? What happened to him?"
The hulking man turned his head, his tone surprisingly breezy. "Oh, him? He's just asleep." No sooner had the words left his mouth than he seemed to remember something; his expression hardened into a look of comical gravity. "Wait—no! I'm not allowed to talk to you yet!" Without another word, he hurried into the cottage, the sleeping comrade still bouncing on his broad back.
Lunethia stood frozen in place, utterly bewildered. Sleeping while on horseback? And the other one simply ran away because he 'wasn't allowed to talk' to me?
Rena gave Lunethia's shoulder a reassuring pat. "Don't mind them. Come on inside, there's nothing to worry about."
Inside the cottage, the group—aside from the one still caught in the depths of slumber—neatly stowed their cloaks and gear before gathering around a long, rustic wooden table in the main hall.
The leader finally cast aside his hood, revealing a shock of short, crimson hair. His eyes were sharp and predatory, flashing with a cold, decisive light that spoke of years of elite combat training. Even in a seated position, he radiated a natural authority and a simmering intensity that made it difficult for anyone in the room to relax.
Once seated, the red-haired man—Rhine—spoke. "Karl. What is the situation with this woman? You claimed she was no threat. Does that mean she's a criminal like the rest of us?"
Karl shook his head calmly. "Rhine, I believe I've made myself clear. When I say she poses no threat, I mean she has no functional ties to the Lunaris Kingdom."
Rhine knit his brows, a small, dissatisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "No ties to the Kingdom? Then she must be a convict. That's practically everyone we encounter these days."
"Not necessarily," Karl replied, his voice shifting into the clinical tone of a scholar. "Based on my observations, she is more likely a maid from a high-ranking noble house, or perhaps a mistress fleeing from some powerful official. She wears garments of the highest caliber, yet lacks the pampered constitution of a true lady. There are only so many categories a person like that fits into."
Rena couldn't hold her tongue any longer. She stepped in, drawing Lunethia closer with a touch that was gentle yet firm. "Enough with the wild guesses," she said, her voice cutting through the tension. "I'm certain she isn't anyone's 'mistress.' Lay off her."
Turning to Lunethia with a warm smile, she continued, "Before we get down to business, let me introduce the rest of the crew."
She gestured toward the red-haired man. "That's Rhine, our leader."
Then, she pointed to the golden-haired man. "This is Karl. He's the most calculating—and devious—mind among us." Karl offered a wry, helpless smile at the description, but notably, he didn't deny it.
Next, she moved to the final woman in the room. "Her name is Milia. She's a bit on the shy side, but you'll get used to her once you've settled in."
She tossed a thumb toward the man still lost in dreams in the corner. "The one catching flies over there is Gerald. He's always sleeping; just ignore him."
Finally, she introduced the two men standing by the door. "The big one is Owen, and the little one is Gareth."
Gareth immediately piped up in protest. "Little? I'm perfectly average height! He's just a giant!" He emphasized his point by playfully thumping Owen's shoulder, his laughter echoing through the hall.
Owen, however, gave no reaction. He remained rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed intently on the hilt of the dagger peeking out from Lunethia's tunic.
Rena furrowed her brow, shooting him a sharp glare. "Owen! What's wrong with you? Forgot how to say hello?"
Owen simply grinned, raising a finger to his lips in a hushed gesture. "Shh... we aren't allowed to talk to her much yet, remember?"
Rena rolled her eyes in exasperation before turning to the two leaders. "Boss, Karl... will one of you say something?"
Rhine merely arched an eyebrow, remaining cloaked in a chilling silence. His gaze remained as sharp as a blade, a clear warning to anyone who might try to get too close.
Seeing this, Karl could only offer another weary smile. He spoke up softly. "It's alright, Owen. She isn't an enemy. You can relax now."
Owen blinked, processed the information, and then nodded vigorously. He turned back to Lunethia, his eyes shining with a sudden, bashful warmth. "Ah, haha! I'm Owen. Hello!"
Rena shook her head and sighed, offering Lunethia a weary explanation. "Sorry about him. He can be a bit slow on the uptake. Until Karl and Rhine explicitly confirm someone isn't a threat, he keeps his guard up like a stone wall. Don't take it personally."
Lunethia gave a soft, gentle smile. "It's alright... um... I think I should probably be heading out now."
Rena gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Relax, we aren't monsters. You can rest here safely for a while. It's better to get your strength back before you continue your journey. Besides, we still don't even know your name."
Lunethia bowed her head slightly, her voice quiet. "Oh... I'm Lunethia."
Karl nodded, his eyes narrowing with a sharp, analytical intensity. "Lunethia. A fine name. And your family name? What might that be?"
Lunethia froze. She hesitated, her lips parting as she struggled to find an answer that wouldn't betray her.
At that exact moment, Owen's legendary clumsiness struck. The teacup he was holding slipped from his massive grip, sailing through the air straight toward Lunethia.
"Look out!" Rena reacted with lightning speed, grabbing Lunethia and pulling her back just as the cup slammed into the floor.
CRASH!
The ceramic shattered, spraying tea and shards across the floorboards. But as Lunethia stumbled back, the sudden movement caused the heavy object tucked in her tunic to slide out. It hit the ground with a dull metallic thud, its blade catching the orange firelight.
Rena exploded in anger. "Owen! You clumsy oaf! You nearly took her head off! Can't you be careful for once?!"
Owen rubbed the back of his neck, offering Lunethia an awkward, sheepish grin. "Ah... sorry. Your thing fell. Let me get that for you."
Lunethia, still dazed by the near-miss, could only whisper a faint, "Oh..."
Owen crouched down, his interest piqued by the weapon on the floor. "Whoa... Boss, look at this. This isn't just some common blade." He picked up the dagger and unsheathed it; the steel gleamed with a lethal, frigid brilliance under the lamplight, its edge looking sharp enough to slice through silk.
Karl's brow furrowed instantly, his voice turning sharp and urgent. "Wait... that dagger... that belongs to Hunter!"
Upon hearing the name, Rhine slammed his fist onto the wooden table, the sound echoing like a thunderclap in the small room.
"What did you just say?!" he demanded, his voice dropping to a bone-chilling growl.
Meanwhile, within the desolate grandeur of the Lunaris Kingdom's citadel...
Hunter knelt on one knee, his head bowed as he presented an exquisite ebony box with both hands. He offered it with practiced reverence to the Queen seated upon the throne.
The Queen narrowed her eyes, her gaze as sharp and frigid as a winter gale. "So," she began, her voice like cracking ice, "is Lunethia's heart within this vessel?"
Hunter kept his eyes fixed on the floor, his voice steady. "It is, Your Majesty. I have fulfilled my duty. The Princess has been executed, and her heart sealed within."
The Queen's fingertips brushed against the intricate carvings of the box. Her gaze seemed to pierce through the ebony wood, searching for a truth only she could recognize. After a long silence, she let out a faint sigh—a sound carrying a trace of an emotion that was almost impossible to name.
"Did she... did she suffer?"
Hunter's expression remained a mask of stone. "The end was instantaneous, Your Majesty. She felt nothing."
The Queen nodded slowly, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Good. At the very least, she was spared the torment."
With a sharp wave of her hand, the coldness returned to her features. "Your task is complete. Dismissed."
"As you command, Your Majesty." Hunter stood, his movements deliberate and powerful. He turned and walked away, his stride rhythmic and confident, yet every nerve in his body was pulled taut like a bowstring. Every step was a calculated act of survival.
The Queen watched his retreating figure until the massive chamber doors groaned shut. Only then did she retreat into the gloom of her private sanctum.
Inside the bedchamber, candlelight flickered fitfully, casting long, distorted shadows against an ancient, silver magic mirror. She placed the ebony box upon her vanity and slowly unlatched it, revealing the gore-slicked "heart" within.
However, the reflection in the mirror betrayed her. The Queen's double looked stricken with an uncharacteristic tension, her eyes trembling with a deep, subterranean unease.
"Lunethia..."
She whispered the name so softly it was barely more than a breath. For a moment, the air in the room grew suffocatingly heavy. The Queen closed her eyes, her chest heaving as she drew a long, shuddering breath, struggling to suppress the tide of emotions surging within her.
When she opened her eyes once more, the flicker of hesitation had been replaced by a gaze of frigid resolve.
Cupping the still-quivering heart in her palms, she paced slowly toward the obsidian altar at the center of the chamber. The altar was a monolith of polished darkness, smooth as glass yet hungry like an abyss, swallowing all light that dared touch its surface. Standing before it was a colossal ancient mirror, its frame a mass of intricately carved, grotesque runes that resembled a knot of writhing serpents.
She placed the heart gently at the altar's center.
Suddenly, the organ pulsed.
Thump.
Thump.
Viscous blood began to weep from the tissue, tracing dark red rivers across the black stone.
In the mirror's reflection, the "Queen" looked down at the heart, and a sneer slowly curled her lips.
"Heh..."
The sound was a sharp blade of undiluted mockery.
"This is not Lunethia's heart." The reflected Queen slowly raised her eyes, her voice dripping with a cruel, almost sadistic delight. "You cannot kill her. You lack the will."
The Queen standing before the altar stiffened, her gaze turning to ice. Her fingers tightened until her knuckles bleached white, yet she quickly regained her mask of regal composure. She tilted her chin up, her voice as sharp as a winter frost.
"I may not be able to strike the blow myself," she said, her tone low and strained. "...but there are others who will."
The Queen in the mirror blinked, stunned for a heartbeat, before erupting into a fit of shrill, piercing laughter.
"Hahahaha—!"
The laughter echoed through the vaulted room, jagged with madness and derision. "You are a fool!" she shrieked, pointing a phantom finger at the heart on the altar. "I told you—this is not her heart! No one—absolutely no one—is capable of killing Lunethia!"
"Silence!"
The Queen's roar thundered through the stone chamber, her voice vibrating against the cold masonry. A dangerous light flared in her eyes, the look of a cornered predator pushed to the brink of madness.
"You are simply afraid," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Afraid that I will finally find a way to end you. That is why you fight so desperately to stop me."
She hesitated no longer.
The Queen bowed her head, her hands rising slowly to cross over her chest. She began to intone an ancient, obsidian incantation. The language was one long lost to the world—its syllables twisted and grotesque, each phoneme sounding like the fabric of reality itself was being torn asunder.
As the mantra intensified, the heart upon the altar was suddenly engulfed in a shroud of crimson light. The glow flickered like a pyre of burning blood, dancing fitfully in the encroaching gloom.
A heartbeat later—
BOOM—
A thick, suffocating blood-mist erupted from the heart, like a curse forcibly awakened from a long slumber. Myriad eldritch runes manifested in the air, spinning and intertwining in a frantic, living dance around the altar.
The entire chamber began to shudder. Even the ancient mirror emitted a low, resonant hum, its surface rippling like a disturbed pond.
In the reflection, the Queen's expression shifted from mockery to raw panic. She slammed her palms against the glass from the inside. "You utter fool!" she shrieked, her composure shattering. "Stop this! Stop it at once!"
But the Queen before the altar remained deaf to her double's pleas. Her focus was absolute, her gaze a mask of frozen steel.
Amidst the swirling red light and the churning mist, she slowly drew a dagger from her waist. The blade was long, slender, and impossibly sharp, glinting with a lethal frost within the crimson haze.
The Queen did not waver. She raised the dagger high—
Then, she drove it down with brutal force.
SHLICK—!
The keen edge transfixed the heart in a single stroke.
The sound of tearing flesh was deafening in the heavy silence. The heart convulsed violently, a dying creature in its final, frantic throes. Gouts of hot blood sprayed across the obsidian altar, overflowing the edges and dripping rhythmically onto the floor.
The red light strobed in a maddened rhythm. The mist boiled. The runes spun until they were nothing but a blur of arcane fury.
—And then.
Everything stopped.
The crimson light faded into a dull ember. The blood-mist dissolved, bit by bit, into the stagnant air. The runes vanished like ash scattered by a sudden wind, leaving behind nothing but the cold, suffocating silence of the tomb.
On the altar, all that remained was a dagger buried deep within a cooling heart.
And the slow, rhythmic drip of blood.
Beyond that—nothing. No curse had been unleashed. No portal had opened.
The Queen's pupils contracted into pinpricks. She froze, her breath suddenly jagged and uneven.
"...What happened?"
She recoiled a step, her voice trembling with an undeniable tremor for the first time. "Why... why was there no reaction?!"
The Queen in the mirror was silent for a fleeting heartbeat.
And then—
"Hahahahaha—!!!"
An explosion of wild, manic laughter tore through the room. The reflected Queen laughed so hard she doubled over, tears of mockery pricking the corners of her eyes.
"How pathetic! Truly, utterly laughable!" She slapped the surface of the glass with theatrical delight. "It wasn't Lunethia's heart at all! You've been played for a fool!"
The Queen's face darkened, her features twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. Her fists clenched until her nails drew blood from her palms.
"Damn him..."
The words were spat out through gritted teeth, heavy with a murderous intent that chilled the very air.
"Hunter!"
The name was a curse in itself, vibrating with the promise of a slow and agonizing death.
The Mirror Queen leaned against the glass, her gaze brimming with playfulness and malice. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Only fifteen days remain..."
"When the night of the full moon arrives, our positions—will be completely reversed."
She spoke with a lightness that made it sound as if she were announcing the start of a grand, festive game.
"Don't you dare dream of it!"
The Queen snapped her head up, her voice a low, vibrating growl of rage. A madness born of obsession burned in her eyes.
"Before that night comes—"
"I will find her."
She stared into the eyes of her reflection, punctuating every word with icy conviction.
"And then, right before your very eyes..."
"I will tear her heart out with my own hands!"
Rage incinerated the last vestiges of her reason.
The fury was a living thing, clawing at her chest, desperate to break free from the constraints of her royal mask. The Queen spun around and strode toward the massive chamber doors. Her cloak billowed behind her in a sharp, lethal arc, and the rhythmic clack of her heavy boots against the stone floor echoed like a drumbeat of war.
BANG—!
She threw open the thick palace doors with a violent shove. The guards stationed outside jolted, their hearts hammering against their ribs as they instinctively dropped to one knee.
The Queen stood in the threshold, her face as dark as a sky before a cataclysmic storm. Her voice sliced through the air like a blade.
"Guards!"
"Your Majesty!" they shouted in unison.
"Bring me Hunter!"
The words were forced through her gritted teeth, dripping with raw, unadulterated murderous intent.
"Now! Drag him back in chains!"
The soldiers did not dare hesitate. The moment the command was issued, the entire citadel transformed into a hornet's nest. The corridors and courtyards filled with the frantic clatter of plate armor, the thunder of boots, and the sharp barks of officers rallying their men.
Before long, heavily armed detachments had mobilized from every corner of the castle. The sound of iron-shod boots striking the earth was like rolling thunder. Knights vaulted into their saddles. Torches flickered to life in the black of night as search parties surged through the city gates, racing toward Hunter's residence and the roads leading out of the capital.
However—
Very little time had passed.
The search parties had not even managed to clear the city limits when a dust-covered guard came sprinting back into the citadel. He burst into the grand hall, gasping for air as he collapsed onto one knee.
"Your Majesty!"
The Queen, standing in the center of the hall, whipped around. "Speak!"
The guard swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "Hunter... when he left the citadel... he slaughtered every member of the retinue assigned to him."
A deathly silence fell over the hall. For a fleeting moment, the very air seemed to freeze.
The Queen's gaze turned to shards of ice.
The guard kept his head low, his voice barely a whisper as he continued his report.
"Furthermore... near the bodies, we discovered numerous tracks and signs deliberately left behind. There are footprints leading toward the northern trade routes, trail markers pointing into the eastern woods, and... and even signs leading to the old mining tunnels in the west."
He swallowed hard. "Our scouts have determined that the leads are contradictory. They were clearly fabricated to deceive us."
The guard's voice grew even fainter. "Therefore... at this moment, it is impossible to determine the true direction of his escape."
As his words fell, the grand hall plunged back into a deathly stillness.
The Queen stood rooted to the spot, motionless. Her hands slowly clenched until the veins on the backs of them bulged with the strain.
A heartbeat later—
CRASH—!
She snatched a porcelain vase from a nearby side table and hurled it onto the floor with a violent roar. The vessel shattered into a thousand jagged pieces, spraying water and shards across the cold stone.
The Queen's fury had finally, completely, reached its boiling point.
"USELESS!" she screamed. "The lot of you... outwitted and outrun by a single man!"
Her voice thundered through the hall, thick with a suffocating weight of menace and rage. The guards remained bowed, not a single one daring to breathe, let alone look up.
Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her eyes gleaming with a murderous, predatory coldness. She stabbed a finger toward the great hall's exit.
"Keep hunting! I want every city gate sealed! Every road, every outpost, every ferry crossing—search them all!"
Her voice dropped to a low, lethal snarl. "I do not care where he hides—bring Hunter back to me! Alive or dead!"
"By your command, Your Majesty!" the guards shouted in unison.
The order rippled out once more. More battalions were mobilized; heavy cavalry, scent hounds, and elite scouts were dispatched in every cardinal direction.
However—
While the citadel was consumed by the chaos of the hunt, a lone rider was already miles away.
On a desolate trail far from the capital, heading toward the lawless southern frontier, a cloaked man rode steadily into the gloom.
Hunter.
The executioner had become the fugitive.