Borderlands of Allthais Barony.
The morning sun rose into smoke.
What should've been gold light over the valley came red through the haze—broken, bleeding.
"Spears! Shields! To formation—move!"
The guards spilled from the armory, half-dressed, half-awake, grabbing whatever they could reach. Villagers joined them, clutching pitchforks, kitchen knives—anything with sharp steel.
Runebloods swarmed the streets, their shadows cutting through fire and dust. Some towered over men, muscle strong like stone, swinging jagged blades and axes. Others–smaller darted quick between the burning houses, claws gleaming. Their growls and roars drowned out the evacuation bells.
"Get the children to the east road!" The Baron -Marshall Harland- shouted, his voice cracking–loud like thunder. "Evacuate the square—move!"
A captain stumbled up, shield dented, face streaked with soot. "The east is blocked, my lord! Too many—"
"Then cut through the orchards!" the Baron barked, blocking a heavy strike with his sword. Sparks burst, steel against claw.
Another guard dragged a wounded man past. The Baron didn't flinch. "Form a second line! Keep them off!"
A massive ox-Runeblood crashed through the barricade, horned head low, snarling. The Baron ducked under its swing, drove his blade deep into its gut, and kicked it back. "Next!" he yelled, breath sharp.
"My lord!" his steward cried, rushing from behind the smoldering stables. Desperate. "You need to fall back! The line's collapsing—"
"I'll die before I leave these innocent souls," the Baron said, eyes locked on the advancing horde. "Go find a rider."
"But—" the Stewart started,
"Now, damn it!" He barked.
The steward froze, then nodded, bloody hand over his heart.
"Go to Eloria,Tell that stubborn Duke…" the Baron's voice dropped—steady but low. "Tell him to protect my grandchildren."
The steward ran, vanishing into smoke and sunlight.
The Baron turned back with resolve, to protect what was left of his square. The flames were much higher now, the roars closer. He lifted his sword again, face streaked with ash and Runeblood blood.
"Preserve me goddess Enia...," he said softly.
And charged forward.
" For Oayai!"
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Hours Later. Eloria — Hampton Duchy,
The Rider's cloak was soaked scarlet by the time the gates came into view. He'd ridden through smoke and sun, through fields that shimmered under noon heat, and he didn't stop–couldn't, not even when his horse stumbled.
When he reached the estate, the guards barely caught him before he fell.
Inside the quiet–humid world of the greenhouse, beautifully still. I knelt beside a bed of white lilies, pruning shears in hand, sleeves rolled up neatly to elbows. The air had changed from mother's faint scent, to that of soil and mint.
Then the quiet broke.
Two maids rushed in, skirts hitched, buckets of water sloshing. One nearly tripped over threshold.
"What's the rush?" I asked, straightening.
The younger maid blinked, startled. "We—we aren't sure ourselves, my lady. But a rider just came from Althais—bleeding."
I froze. The shears clicked softly shut in my hand.
Althais.
Baron Harland.
For a heartbeat, my chest weighed hollow—then too full. I turned to the glass, where sunlight burned against the creeping smoke stems rising far beyond the hills.
I'm not too surprised, l'd been expecting this. The war—the start of Poison Love.
But things haven't been progressing as expected, Originally, In the story, no one important died from the war. that's how it was supposed to go.
But Lauretta was also not supposed to die. If that could change… so could anything else.
A small tremor passed through my fingers, I drop the shears on the table. taking in a breath to calm myself. "So," I murmured, voice low. "It begins."
I wiped my hands on my apron as i stepped out of the greenhouse. The air outside was sharp, with noise that didn't belong—boots pounding, gates clanging, horses snorting.
The estate had never busier.
"If it's not one thing it's another." I said, frustration dripping in my tone.
By the time I reached the courtyard, guards were swarming the main steps. One shouted for the physician. Someone else yelled about the stables. God knows what's wrong with the stables.
And right at the center of it, Carl Rollen – The family Chamberlain– stood, sleeves rolled, trying to make sense of the chaos. Dark circles under his eyes as usual.
He's always so busy with work, I could probably count how many times I see him in a year. He's a desk person, Iike some kind of ghost accountant really.
"Lady Iris!" he called when he spotted me. His graying hair was damp with sweat, eyes sharper than usual. "You shouldn't be out here—your father's orders—"
"What happened?" I cut in.
He hesitated. Enough reason for me to guess it was bad.
"The rider from Althais," he said hesitant to continue. "He's gravely injured. The Baron's stronghold's been attacked. Runebloods breached the border at dawn."
The words hung there, heavy and unreal.
"Where's Father?"
"In the study. The rider's being treated there—barely alive. You can–"
I walked past before he could finish. I didn't need permission. The corridors were crowded with staff, whispers snapping through the air like sparks. Runebloods… Althais… the Duchess's Father…
{All this hassle is making me dizzy.}
The door to Father's study was open when I reached. He stood by the desk, head bowed over a bloodstained map. A guard supported the messenger slumped in a chair, his face ghost-pale.
"…they came out of nowhere," the man rasped. "Tore through the outer wall—Baron ordered the children to safety. He stayed behind... to hold the line."
Father's jaw tightened. His knuckles whitened against the desk.
I don't know what, but something in me sank.
I started to question previous thoughts. This was just the beginning of the book, nothing too drastic could happen.. it's not a tragic tale, it's cringe romance. I'd told myself this war wouldn't touch us. That the story still had time before everything unraveled.
But the story was already different.
{Should I say something, what do I even say, how do I know my predictions are accurate.}
I parted my lips to speak,
Carl entered behind me, quietly. Sudden. "My Lord," he said, "a messager –– from the palace"
The room froze.
Father didn't answer at first. He just looked at the map—then at me.
His gaze was unusual again, he didn't look like the man who could fix everything.
It scared me.
The ticking of the clock filled the space.
A palace soldier stumbled in, expressionless–firm, clutching a letter with the palace seal. Father took it without a word. His eyes scanned the page. Then stilled.
{What now?}
When he finally spoke, his voice was gravel.
"Send me the children. It's the Princess"
{How'd she know already?}
The air drained from the room. Eloria wasn't Althais, but it was close enough. The heat would surely reach here if not handled.
He folded the letter with quiet precision. "Carl," he said evenly, "find Rosie. Tell her to ready the children, they leave within the hour."
Carl bowed, his face pale, and hurried off.
The instant the door shut, I spoke.
"No."
Sylvester turned, brow raised. "I was waiting for you to speak."
"I'm not leaving," I said, steady and cold. "You're sending everyone away like that fixes things. It won't. You'll die here alone, and we'll just sit and wait for the beasts to reach us?"
His eyes darkened, but he didn't speak.
"I'm done hiding. Done being safe."
He let out a long breath — tired, heavy. "You're not ready to face monsters, Iris."
"I wasn't ready to lose Mother either," I shot back. "But that didn't stop it."
Something in him cracked then — quiet, invisible, but I still saw it, as usual. His voice softened.
"So stubborn." he murmured.
"I already lost one parent, I'm not losing another. It's either you come with us, or we don't leave at all."
"Tempting offer," He said, stepping closer, his hands came down firm on my shoulders. " But listen to me, Iris. As much as I wish to be with your mother…"
He paused, eyes glassing faintly. "…I won't leave you. Ever."
That broke whatever composure I thought I had.
Everyone in the room — the guards, the aides, even Zerius by the door — saw it then. The Duke and his daughter, stripped of titles and tempers. Just two very stubborn people refusing to lose each other.
He pulled me into a tight hug, voice low near my ear.
"You keep them safe, Iris. Theo pretends to be brave, but he only does it to impress you."
I swallowed hard, before I hugged him back. "So you noticed?." I said.
"I always knew." He chuckled.
When he stepped back, the soldier returned to his eyes. Command replaced grief.
"Go after Carl," he ordered gently. "Find Rosie. Get them ready. I'll join you after I retrieve your old man."
I nodded, though my hands trembled.
As I turned to open the door, he raised his voice —
"Zerius! Assemble the House vessels. Immediately."
In a matter of minutes we were gathered at the courtyard.
The estate had settled down a little, tensely quiet beneath distant noise. From the gates, shouts echoed faintly. Orders from Sergeants, panicked voices, crying children, and the clatter of wheels from the town. The smoke was now visibly curling over the horizon.
Rosie stood by the carriage steps, ushering us forward with shaking hands. "My ladies, quickly now."
Gia frowned. "Why are we leaving? Where are we going?"
Mia's voice was small. "Is it war?," she questioned "Iris say something, What's going on?"
" Where's Father?" Gia continued.
Rosie didn't answer. Neither did I.
Theo climbed in beside me, eyes wide. "We're going to be alright, right?" He asked trying to stay brave.
I pulled him close, my arm wrapping around his shoulders. "I hope so."
The door shut behind us with a heavy thud.
Through the window, I caught sight of Father on the terrace. He didn't come down to see us off. Just raised a hand in a brief, steady wave, before turning back.
The carriage jolted forward.
Outside the high gates, people were already fleeing — farmers, mothers with babies, even children. Dragging sacks of grain, goats and horses tangled in the rush. Guards shouted, trying to steady the order. It wasn't doing much, they looked like they were running from something they couldn't even see.
Not yet at least.
I pressed my palm against the glass, watching until the town blurred behind us.