I would have given anything to continue from Leon's writings, but the ink faded there. The story ended with that terrible, frozen moment—the knights emerging from the woods, the wounded one's eyes locked on him. For days, I felt the ghost of that cliffhanger. I thought I would never know how it ended, the fate of that brave, foolish boy lost to time.
Until I found Eulalia's.
It wasn't a scroll, but a small, leather-bound diary, hidden at the bottom of a chest filled with my mother's old linens. The script was neater, more deliberate than Leon's frantic scrawl, but the voice was unmistakably hers. It began not with the knights, but with the slam of a door and the sound of her brother's name being screamed into the trees.
She saw everything.
***
I woke with a start in Leon's bed, the rough wool blanket tangled around my legs. The space beside me was cold and empty.
"Leon?" I whispered into the silence, but the memory rushed back—the window, his figure disappearing into the woods. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked around. His slingshot lay on the floor. A carved wooden horse, its paint chipped from our shared games, sat on the shelf. The room felt like a ghost of itself.
I slipped out of bed and padded toward the main room, drawn by a noise that was wrong.
It was the low murmur of voices, but these weren't the familiar sounds of my mother humming or Damon's calm, steady tone. These were voices like grinding stones—deep, rough, and unfamiliar. And beneath them, a sound that made the tiny hairs on my arms stand up: the heavy, terrifying crunch and creak of armoured boots on our wooden floor. It was a sound that didn't belong in our home, a sound from the scary stories the other children told.
My bare feet were silent on the cool wood as I crept closer. I was about to call out for my mother when a body appeared from the main room and a hand swiftly covered my mouth. I gasped, my heart leaping into my throat. I looked and saw that it was Leon.
His face was streaked with dirt and tears, his eyes wide with a fear I had never seen before. The hand over my mouth was trembling.
"Shhh," he breathed, his voice a raw, terrified whisper. "Not a sound. They'll hear you."
Before I could process anything, a voice, sharp and impatient, sliced through the air from the main room.
"Leon, water now!"
The voice was my mother's, but it wasn't as sweet as it used to be. It was tight with fear and something else I couldn't explain.
Leon flinched at the sound. His eyes darted toward the door, then back to me, pleading.
"Stay here," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Don't move. Don't make a sound."
He let go of me, his hand leaving a cold spot on my skin, and ducked into the small washroom. I heard the soft splash of water. He emerged a moment later with a full bowl, his hands shaking so badly the water sloshed over the rim. He passed me without a word, gesturing fiercely for me to stay put, before disappearing into the main room.
I couldn't stay. I crept to the doorway and peered around the frame.
It was then I saw them.
Five huge men in steel armour filled our home. One of them, the one with yellow hair, was lying on our dining table, his face pale as he clutched at his neck. My mother was there, her hands stained red, pressing cloths against a wound. She moved to the fireplace, took a metal rod glowing with heat, and without hesitation, pressed it against the wound. The man on the table let out a strangled shout of agony.
One of the other knights smirked. "Suck it in, Bryce."
"Larkin" Bryce called. But the pain didnt let him go on.
My mother poured water over the seared flesh. "The bleeding has stopped," she said, her voice eerily calm. "But I need fenilis herb, or infection will set in."
One of the knights, a man with a face like a storm cloud, stepped forward. "What the fuck is that?" he snarled.
Mother took a while before she answered. I would have taken forever. He was as scary as his voice was.
"It's an herb. For the infection," Mother said. "My son can go get it."
The man with a face like a storm cloud immediately let out a harsh laugh. "You think we're stupid? He'll run for help!"
A more composed knight placed a hand on the mad man's arm. "Calm down, Haywise." he said.
Haywise shook him off but stayed quiet.
"Where is this fenilis?" the composed knight asked.
"It grows on a farm nearby. Not far. My son can go," my mother said, her gaze steady. If she was afraid, she hid it perfectly. Her hands never left Bryce's shoulder.
The fourth knight spoke up. "How do we know he won't call an army?"
"I will go with him," the fourth knight offered.
"No," my mother said quickly. "If you are seen, every soul in Cy will know knights are here. It is best you remain unseen."
"I think we should take our chances," Haywise growled.
The composed knight, Nightingale, gave it some thought. He looked at Leon, then at Mother.
Mother quickly dashed to Leon. She looked at him. "He will tell no one." Leon, trembling by the wall, shook his head, his eyes wide with terror. "Leon," my mother said, pulling him close. "Go. Get the fenilis and come straight back. Speak to no one. Do you understand?" Leon nodded, crying silently. "Tell no one. Go!"
She let him go. Leon didn't move, his eyes fixed on the knights. He shook his head at her again, a silent plea.
She screamed, her composure finally breaking, "GO NOW! GO!"
Leon flinched and then ran, darting out the door into the dawn.
"I'll keep watch until he gets back," the fourth knight said, and followed him out.
The remaining knights sat down, the tension thick. My mother returned to Bryce, checking his wound.
I heard him whisper, "Thank you."
For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw my mother's shoulders soften. But her eyes caught Haywise's. He was staring at her, his expression pure, simmering hatred.
A heavy quiet fell over the room, broken only by the crackle of the fire and Bryce's ragged breathing. Haywise was the one to break it. He began to pace, a caged animal in our small home.
"Three days," he spat. "Three days in these damned woods. The paths change behind us. The sun is in the wrong place. North becomes south. We've been walking in circles, picked off by shadows, our scouts vanishing without a sound." He stopped and turned his furious gaze on my mother. "We've faced horrors in the dark that make a clean sword fight feel like a blessing."
He took a step closer. "So you'll forgive me if I'm not overflowing with gratitude." His voice was a low, dangerous growl. "I think we should thank you for saving our comrade," he said, the words dripping with venom. "But if you don't mind me asking… where do we go from here? How do you people not lose your minds in this… this labyrinth?"
My mother met his gaze. "The woods protect us. We read the signs."
"Signs?" Haywise scoffed. "What signs?"
"The birds," she said simply. "The hawk. Wherever it turns in flight, that is east. Always."
A stunned silence filled the room. Nightingale and Larkin exchanged a look of pure disbelief.
"You expect us to believe that?" Haywise laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. He turned to Nightingale. "Can you believe this?"
"It is true," my mother insisted, her voice firm. "The old gods made it so, to protect Cy." She looked at each of the knights. "There is no Vasilian rebellion here. Just a village called Cy. My village. We are farmers and hunters. We are not a threat to your king."
"They attacked us," Larkin said coldly.
"That was a foolish few, led by a man drunk on old stories," my mother replied, her voice weary but resolute. "It is over. The cost of their foolishness is in my home."
There was another silence. The knights seemed a bit moved by what mother said.
the fourth man Larkin, walked over to Bryce. "You alright, Bryce?"
Bryce gave a weak, pained nod. "Yes, Captain Larkin."
The brief moment of humanity seemed to irritate Haywise. His eyes scanned our home again. "This is a quiet house," he said, his voice cutting through the fragile calm. "A big house." His gaze landed back on my mother. "Where is your husband?"
"I don't have one."
"Only you live here?" he pressed, his voice dropping to a predatory purr.
A cold dread washed over me. I carefully stepped back, wanting to melt into the shadows of Leon's room, but my heel hit the wall with a soft thump.
I froze.
Before I could run, a large, rough hand grabbed my arm, yanking me off my feet. I screamed.
"Mother!"
"Please!" my mother yelled, rushing forward. "She's just a girl! Let her go!"
Haywise dragged me into the main room and dropped me onto his lap as he sat. "Now, now," he cooed, his voice sickly sweet. "Eavesdropping when your elders are talking? That's not good manners."
"Please don't hurt me!" I cried.
My mother begged, "Sir, please, I'm begging you!"
"There is another child," I heard the captain, Larkin, say.
Nightingale gestured with his chin. "Go check the house, Larkin."
Haywise, still holding me, felt me tense. He tightened his grip, but his voice became a terrifying, gentle coo. "Shhh now, little bird. Calm down." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He was even more terrifying up close; I could see a thin, pale scar cutting through his eyebrow and the cold, calculating look in his gaze. "We're just having a talk. No one's going to hurt you if you're a good girl." It was a lie. I could feel it.
"Please," my mother begged, fresh tears rolling down her face. "She's just a little girl. She's frightened."
We all listened to the heavy thud of Larkin's boots as he moved through our home. The sound of my bedroom door opening. The creak of Leon's door. The scrape of the chest being moved.
After a while, Larkin returned, brushing dust from his hands. "There is no one," he said, his tone flat and final. "The place is empty."
Haywise's eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave a slow, satisfied nod.
It was Bryce who spoke next, his voice weak but clear. "Let her go, Haywise."
The room went still. The other knights looked at Bryce in shock. Haywise's head snapped toward him, his expression one of pure incredulity. Who do you think you are?
My mother rushed to Bryce's side. "Don't move! You'll tear the wound open!"
But Haywise's eyes had lit up. He looked at me, then at Bryce. He looked at me again, his gaze lingering on my face, then flicking back to Bryce. A slow, dawning horror spread across his features.
Bryce seemed to understand. He pushed himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain, and stood on his feet. He walked over, every step an effort, and firmly pulled me from Haywise's grasp, handing me to my mother. "They have done nothing but help us," he said, his voice gaining strength. "Leave her children alone."
Haywise said nothing. He just kept looking between Bryce and me, his eyes wide. Then, a slow, ugly smile spread across his face. He began to laugh. A low chuckle at first, then it grew, echoing through our small house, loud and unhinged. The other knights stared at him as if he'd gone mad.
He turned to Nightingale and grabbed his arm. "Nightingale! Look!" He pointed a shaking finger at Bryce's hair, then at mine. Both fair, both the color of straw. He pointed at Bryce's eyes, then at mine. The same shade of clear, sky blue.
The truth crashed over me. We had the same eyes.
Haywise laughed again, a harsh, triumphant sound. "You bastard!"
The knight from outside came in, the noise bringing him in. Haywise saw him. "Randel! You are not going to believe it." He walked to Randel and placed his hands on his shoulders. "He survived the Cy woods, my arse! Randel! Allow me to introduce you!" he crowed, pointing. "To Sir Bryce... Lady Bryce... and little Bryce!" His finger was aimed directly at me. "This bastard hasn't just been sleeping with the enemy. He's been building a family with her!"