The carriage rattled to a halt as the group reached Dawson. The town stretched before them, its streets lined with armories and blacksmiths, the air thick with smoke and iron. Dawson had become infamous for its daylight attacks, yet for now, the roads seemed quiet. They decided to rest here, to gather strength before continuing their search.
Inside the inn, Carmine and Elaine sat together, their voices hushed but sharp. Elaine leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. "Isabelle's movements… they don't add up. She's always whispering to her brothers, always watching Colden when she thinks no one notices."
Carmine nodded, her tone steady but laced with suspicion. "She's plotting something. I can feel it. But we must tread carefully. If we accuse her without proof, Colden will be torn between us. And right now, he needs unity."
As they spoke, Isabelle herself lingered nearby, her gaze drifting toward Colden's room. Through the half-open door, she caught a glimpse of him — Colden seated on the edge of his bed, clutching a small photoframe. Marco's face stared back at him from within it, and Colden's tears fell silently, his shoulders trembling. Isabelle's eyes flickered with unease. For a moment, she seemed anxious, but she quickly dismissed it,
Meanwhile, Elaine wandered to the stables, seeking solitude. The smell of hay and the creak of wood surrounded her, but her mind was elsewhere. She remembered the night of Marco's kidnapping — the chaos, the screams. She had been struck, her head slamming against the banister, blood dripping down one side of her face. Her vision blurred, but she could still hear Marco crying for help, his voice raw with terror as he was dragged violently across the front door and stuffed into the carriage.
She remembered his mother's cries too — desperate, breaking, until they faded into silence. Elaine had been powerless, forced to run through the palace with blood clouding her sight, unable to save him. The memory tore at her, and tears welled in her eyes.
A squeak broke her reverie. She turned and saw a horse, its coat gleaming in the dim light. It was beautiful, strong, and it reminded her of the horses she used to ride with her mother. The memory of simpler days, of laughter and freedom, overwhelmed her. She leaned against the stable wall, sobbing quietly, letting out her frustrations and fears.
Carmine, noticing her absence, stepped outside and saw Elaine by the stables. She began to walk toward her, but suddenly Demure appeared, panting heavily. "Carmine… something's happened to Colden!" His voice was urgent, his face pale.
Without hesitation, Carmine rushed back inside.
In his room, Colden had just placed Marco's photoframe carefully into his leather pouch, his fingers lingering on it as though it were the last tether to hope. He turned, only to see Lars — his other brother — standing behind him, shovel in hand.
Before Colden could react, Lars swung. The blow landed hard, and Colden collapsed to the floor, the pouch slipping from his grasp.
The room fell silent, the weight of betrayal hanging heavy in the air.
TO BE CONTINUED…
NEXT CHAPTER ON 9th FEBRUARY 2026