Haywise's laughter died, but the ugly smile remained, carved into his face like a crack in stone. The words "family with her" seemed to hang in the air, sucking all the sound from the room.
Family? My mind scrambled, trying to catch up. What did he mean by family? I had never seen this man in my life. My family was Mother, and Leon, and sometimes Damon. This knight with the yellow hair and the bleeding neck was a stranger. A scary stranger who was now lying on our table.
The other knights were statues. Nightingale's composed mask had shattered into pure shock. Larkin looked back and forth between me and Bryce, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Haywise, wait—" Nightingale began, his voice low, trying to wrest back control of a situation spinning into madness.
But Haywise wasn't listening. His eyes, burning with vindictive triumph, were fixed on me. "The proof is right there, you blind fools!" he spat, and took a sudden, lurching step forward, his good hand reaching out to grab me again.
Bryce moved.
It wasn't the desperate, pained swing from before. This was faster, more brutal. He didn't use the rod. He drove his shoulder into Haywise's chest, sending the bigger man stumbling back into the wall with a crash that shook the cabin.
"Don't you touch her," Bryce snarled, his voice a guttural promise of violence.
Haywise shoved himself off the wall, his face a purple mask of rage. "TRAITOR!" he roared, and this time, his sword cleared its scabbard with a sharp, metallic ring.
Steel whispered again as Larkin drew his own blade in the same instant, but he didn't point it at Bryce. He stepped between them, his sword held defensively. "Haywise, stand down! We can't jump to conclusions! This is… it's just speculation!"
The room held its breath. All eyes turned to Bryce.
Larkin's voice was almost pleading. "Right, Bryce? Tell him it's not true."
But Bryce said nothing.
He just stood there, his chest heaving, his gaze locked on Haywise. He didn't deny it. He didn't confirm it. He simply looked at them with a grim, resigned silence that was more damning than any confession.
The last shred of doubt in Larkin's eyes died. The speculation was true.
Bryce's eyes finally broke from the knights. He looked back at my mother and me, and in that one glance, I saw it all—a lifetime of sorrow, a fierce, desperate love, and a deep, crushing apology. I'm sorry.
Larkin, his face a storm of betrayal and duty, shifted his stance, his sword now pointing directly at Bryce. "Bryce," he said, his voice tight. "Answer me."
But Bryce kept his eyes on the knights brothers, as he spoke to us. "Artemisia," he said, his voice low and urgent. "You have to leave. You both have to leave. I'll hold them."
My mother's composure finally broke. A single, ragged sob escaped her. "William—"
He cut her off, his voice cracking with a pain worse than any wound. "Go! For her, and for the boy! I'm… I'm sorry."
In one fluid motion, he unsheathed his own sword. The sound was a death knell. In response, Nightingale and Randel drew their blades, the circle of steel closing around him.
"Now, Arti! Go!" he roared, his voice raw. "I'm sorry I brought this on you!"
My mother, her face a mask of anguish, hesitated for one more second. It was a second too long.
"GO!" Bryce screamed again, just as Haywise, with a feral cry, launched his attack.
Bryce met the charge, their swords clashing with a shriek of metal that shattered the last of my world.
That was all it took. My mother snatched me into her arms, and we ran. We burst out of the cabin door and into the cold, uncaring light of dawn, the sounds of battle ringing at our backs.
My mother ran, her breath coming in ragged sobs, clutching me to her chest so tightly I could barely breathe. The forest was a blur of slapping branches and stinging leaves. Thorns tore at her dress and my bare arms, but she didn't slow down, her legs pumping, driven by a terror I could feel vibrating through her body.
Suddenly, she skidded to a stop, her chest heaving. She set me down on my feet, her hands gripping my shoulders. Her eyes were wide, wild.
"Eulalia, listen to me," she gasped. "Run to the farm. Find Leon. You both go to Damon's. Do you understand?"
I didn't understand. what was going on?
Mother held me close again and asked "do you understand? Eulalia?
Tears immediately flooded my vision. "No! I don't want to leave you! Come with me!"
She shook me, not hard, but with a desperate intensity. "I will meet you at Damon's house. I promise. But you have to go now." Her voice softened, cracking. "You are a brave girl, Eulalia. You have always been so brave. I need you to be brave for me one more time. You have to get to Leon."
She gave me a firm push toward the path. "Go! I'm right behind you!"
I stumbled, then started to run. After a few paces, I looked back. She was still standing there, watching me. And she was smiling. A proud, heartbreaking smile that was meant to give me courage. Then she turned and vanished back the way we had come.
I ran. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, my chest burning, each gasp of air a knife. I didn't stop. My foot caught on a root and I went down hard, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. I scrambled to get up, tears of pain and fear streaming down my face, and started running again.
I had only taken a few more frantic steps when I jammed my foot against something soft and tumbled to the forest floor with a cry.
A hand clamped over my mouth.
I looked up, ready to scream, and found myself staring into Leon's terrified eyes.
He let go, and I threw my arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder.
"Eulalia? What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Where's Mother?"
The words tore out of me between sobs. "She went back! She went back to the house!"
The blood drained from Leon's face. The fear in his eyes turned into something else—something hard and desperate. Without another word, he shoved the bundle of fenilis herbs into my hands, turned, and began sprinting back toward home.
"Leon, no!" I cried, but he was already disappearing through the trees.
I picked myself up, my body aching, and ran after him, calling his name into the woods that were now swallowing us both.
Leon was faster, but I tried to keep up, my small legs burning as I chased his shadow through the tangled woods. The journey felt endless, a nightmare of tripping roots and gasping breaths. Finally, the trees thinned, and our cabin came into view.
I saw Leon first, frozen in the open doorway, his frame rigid. A terrible silence hung over everything. I stumbled to his side, my own breath catching in my throat.
I looked inside.
The first thing I saw was Larkin. He was on the ground, not moving. But it was wrong. His head was… away from his body. I clamped a hand over my mouth, a silent scream trapped inside. My eyes, wide with horror, scanned the room. Nightingale was on the floor too, a dark, glistening pool of blood spreading around him. He wasn't moving. Further in, we saw Randel. One of his arms was gone.
It was a slaughterhouse.
And then we saw it, in the corner of the main room.
Sir Bryce was propped against the wall, his head tilted up as if looking at the ceiling. His armor was rent and torn, and blood covered him from his neck to his boots. He was not moving.
And in his arms, held tight against his chest even in death, was our mother.
She wasn't moving.
A sound tore from me, a wounded, animal cry. "Mother!"
I ran to her, collapsing at her side. I grabbed her arm, shaking it. "Mother! Wake up! Please, wake up!" Her skin was cold. I looked up at Leon, who still stood frozen in the doorway, his face a mask of pure, uncomprehending shock, tears already carving clean paths through the dirt on his cheeks.
"Leon, help me!" I begged, my voice breaking. "Help me wake her up!"
But he just stood there, paralysed.
I turned back to her, sobbing, clutching her dress. "Please, Mama, please wake up. We're here. We came back. Please."
My pleading finally broke through his trance. Leon staggered forward and fell to his knees beside me. He didn't try to shake her. He just laid his head on her chest, his small shoulders heaving with silent, shuddering sobs.
We cried. We cried until our voices were hoarse and our tears ran dry, begging the one person who held our world together to please, please, just wake up. But the only answer was the deafening, final silence of the room.
****
Some hours had passed. We didn't move. We had cried so much there were no tears left, just dry, hollow sobs that shook our small bodies. We still held onto our mother, our fingers tangled in her dress, not wanting to let her go, as if our grip could somehow anchor her to this world.
I looked at her face again, and through the blur of my grief, I saw what I hadn't before. Mother was smiling. A small, peaceful, secret smile. And when I looked at Sir Bryce, his head still tilted back against the wall, he was smiling too.
Then, a loud voice from outside shattered the silence.
"This is the place!"
I recognized the voice. It was Haywise. We heard the heavy, organized march of many boots.
Leon shot up. He looked at me, and I looked at him, my eyes wide with fresh terror. "The soldiers are back," I whispered.
Leon's eyes darted around the room of death. Then, with a resolve that broke my heart, he took my hand and pulled me to my feet. We ran into the washroom. In the corner was a ground hatch where we kept dirty laundry. Leon lifted it.
"Get in," he said, his voice trembling.
"No! Come with me!" I pleaded.
But Leon just smiled. A sad, brave smile that didn't belong on a boy's face. "I have to protect you," he said. He kissed my forehead. "Stay until it's quiet. Don't come out until it's quiet."
I tried to grab his hand, to hold him back, but he gently pulled away and closed the hatch, plunging me into darkness.
heard his footsteps leave the room. After a while, I heard yelling.
"You little brat! Grab him!" Haywise's voice roared.
I heard Leon struggle, his small voice defiant through his tears. "You killed my mother! You killed my sister! Where is my sister? Where is her body?"
I heard a scuffle, a thud, and Leon's cry of "Let me go!"
The footsteps grew louder and more numerous. Finally, they faded out.
I waited in the dark, counting the frantic beats of my heart. When the silence felt permanent, I pushed open the hatch and crawled out. "Leon?" I called into the empty house. Nothing. I entered the main room. Our mother was still there, still smiling. But Bryce's body was gone. All the knights were gone. It was as if they had been swept away, leaving only her behind. Fresh tears welled in my eyes, but I forced myself to look away. I had to move.
I ran outside. "Leon! LEON!" I called, my voice echoing uselessly through the trees. There was only silence. My only goal now was Damon. I walked into the woods, crying, calling my brother's name until my voice was a raw whisper.
I walked for a long time, my small body numb with shock and grief. Then I came to the village square. It was packed with people, their faces pale with fear. The square was filled with Castling soldiers. And there, on a horse, was Haywise, beside an old man in fine clothes.
My eyes were drawn to a long line of my village's men and boys, shuffling towards a stage. Beside the stage stood a man with a huge, heavy sword. As I watched, frozen, a man from the line walked up, placed his head on the wooden block, and the swordsman raised his blade. The crowd gasped as one. I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them, the head was gone, and the body was being dragged away.
My eyes scanned the line. And I saw him.
Third in line was Leon.
A silent scream built in my throat. I was about to shatter the terrible quiet with his name when a hand clamped over my mouth and strong arms pulled me back into the shadows. I struggled, but it was useless. I looked up and saw Damon. He held me tight against his chest, his own eyes fixed on the horror in the square, a single tear rolling down his cheek.
I pleaded with my eyes, I kicked and squirmed, but his grip was like iron. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then he began to sing. His voice was low and broken, a sad, old Vasilian lament I'd heard mothers hum to their children.
"Don't cry child, Castling listens,
Stay strong and true, like warriors of old.
Somewhere out there, a land that glistens,
Where heroes are crowned with gold."
He stopped for a moment, his voice catching. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, another voice, trembling but clear, took up the song.
"Don't cry child, Castling listens..."
And then, as if a dam had broken, everyone joined in. The entire square, a chorus of the condemned and those forced to watch, their voices weaving together in a tapestry of sorrow and defiance.
"Stay strong and true, like warriors of old.
Somewhere out there a land that glistens,
Where heroes are crowned with gold."
I looked at the line. They were singing too. And Leon, my brave, brother, sang as he climbed the steps to the stage. He sang with tears streaming down his face, with a passion that shook his small frame, as he placed his own neck on the blood-soaked wood.
The song swelled, the final verse a promise of salvation.
"We're on our way to paradise,
Where we will dine with kings,
A place where Vasilians never die..."
Leon looked up. His eyes scanned the crowd, and I think... I believe he saw me. He saw me in the shadows, held by Damon. And he smiled. A real smile, full of love, just for me.
And he sang the final line directly to me.
"...A paradise for you and I."
The sword dropped.
I closed my eyes.