Cain approached Illara and me as we stood near the gate.

  “Drisnil,” he said, giving me a measuring look. “Judging by how long you were gone, I assume your little hunt went well?”

  I released Illara and nodded.

  “I kept them awake for two days,” I replied. “And their cleric — Joan — hasn’t had a chance to rest either.”

  Cain allowed himself a thin smile.

  “Excellent.”

  He gestured toward the forest beyond the palisade.

  “For the coming fight, I want you outside the walls. If you can bait some of them away from the fort, it will thin their numbers.”

  Illara’s expression hardened immediately.

  “No,” she said sharply. “That’s too dangerous. I don’t want her fighting alone again.”

  I placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

  “It’s alright,” I said with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. I can outrun them, remember?”

  “But you’ve only just returned,” Illara protested. Her voice softened slightly. “It isn’t fair.”

  “Look at it this way,” I replied lightly. “When this is over, you can have me all to yourself for an entire day.”

  That made her pause.

  “Do you promise?” she asked quietly.

  I nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a little.

  Cain cleared his throat.

  “Good. Then that’s settled. Take whatever arrows you need. I’ll leave the details of your… harassment to you.”

  He glanced toward the gate where several people were preparing the drawbridge.

  “We’re raising it soon. If you’re back already, I suspect they’ll be here within a couple of hours.”

  I collected fresh arrows from the supply pile and slung the quiver over my shoulder.

  As I moved through camp, I passed Sera and Ash sitting together beneath a blanket. They were leaning close, lost in quiet conversation, gazing at one another as though the rest of the world had temporarily stopped existing.

  I left them undisturbed.

  A little further on, Theo was speaking with Jenna near the wall.

  I gave them both a friendly wave.

  Theo returned it easily, smiling as always.

  Jenna only scowled.

  I left the relative safety of the fort and moved quickly through the forest, setting a series of simple spike traps along the likely approach routes. Between two closely spaced trees, I rigged a crude trip line with arrows angled toward the path — not elegant, but effective.

  After that, I made my way to the nearby riverbank.

  There I dug carefully beneath the soil along the edge, hollowing out the bank while leaving the surface intact. From above it looked solid, but any weight placed there would collapse the ground into the water below.

  I marked the spot with a small stick — a reminder for myself.

  With the traps prepared, I circled back to where I expected the guards to be.

  It took less than an hour to find them.

  Joan looked exhausted. She sat near the centre of their camp, staring blankly ahead as she slowly scooped food into her mouth. The divine glow that had surrounded her hands the night before was gone.

  The rest of the guards looked little better.

  Only Percy seemed energetic.

  He paced constantly, barking orders, pointing at the forest, forcing the men to stay alert despite their fatigue.

  Drisnil’s smile crept across my face.

  Half an hour later, they began moving again.

  Weapons were already drawn.

  Their formation split as they advanced through the forest. Most of the guards remained with Joan, but Percy peeled away with five others, moving left through thicker brush.

  The choice was obvious.

  Percy was my target.

  I shadowed his group through the trees.

  About an hour later, distant shouts echoed faintly through the forest.

  The battle at the fort had begun.

  For a moment I hesitated.

  My friends were fighting.

  But my role was here.

  A few minutes later, the rear of the fort came into view through the trees. Percy’s intent was obvious — he meant to flank the walls and strike where they least expected.

  That could not be allowed.

  I loosened my control.

  Drisnil surged forward inside the body, movements becoming sharper, more fluid.

  She drew the bow.

  The arrow flew.

  It buried itself in the back of one guard’s neck.

  He collapsed with a wet choking sound.

  The noise twisted my stomach.

  “Ambush! Behind us!” Percy shouted.

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  The remaining guards spun toward us.

  None of them carried bows.

  Perfect.

  Drisnil turned and ran — but not at full speed.

  We needed them to follow.

  Branches whipped past as we led them through the forest. When we reached the first trap, Drisnil leapt cleanly over it.

  Percy noticed immediately.

  But he was a heartbeat too late.

  The guard behind him triggered the line.

  The arrow slammed through his leg.

  His scream echoed through the trees as he collapsed, clutching the wound.

  Drisnil’s smile widened.

  We kept running.

  Percy began closing the distance.

  He was faster than the others — not by much, but enough to matter.

  To keep them chasing us, we had to stay just within reach.

  Drisnil suddenly pivoted and faced him.

  The fury in Percy’s eyes was unmistakable — days of exhaustion and humiliation burning in his expression.

  He lunged forward with a savage swing.

  Drisnil raised her blade to block—

  But the strike was a feint.

  Percy slammed into her with his shield instead.

  The impact was brutal.

  Her body crashed into a tree, the breath driven from her lungs. For a heartbeat the world spun.

  Percy followed instantly.

  His sword thrust toward our chest.

  Drisnil rolled aside just in time.

  The blade buried itself deep into the bark where we had been.

  She countered with a quick rapier thrust.

  Percy caught it on his shield with ease.

  This was no exhausted brute.

  He was trained.

  More skilled than Drisnil in close combat.

  Recognising the danger, she disengaged immediately, leaping backward before Percy’s next swing could land.

  Then she ran.

  Behind us, Percy growled in frustration and resumed the chase.

  Speed was our only advantage now.

  And I could only hope our stamina would outlast his.

  We glanced back.

  The three remaining guards were falling behind, struggling through the undergrowth.

  Percy was not.

  He was close now — breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face, but still gaining.

  We kept running.

  Soon the other guards were barely visible through the trees. Drisnil seized the moment and veered sharply, cutting a wide circle through the forest to intercept them.

  We pushed harder, widening the distance between us and Percy.

  Moments later we spotted one of the guards scrambling over a fallen log.

  He turned just in time to see us.

  His expression shifted from confusion to shock as Drisnil drove the rapier straight through his chest.

  The blade slid free as he collapsed.

  The other two guards charged toward us, but exhaustion had slowed them badly.

  One swung clumsily.

  Drisnil knocked the blade aside.

  The other lunged.

  She ducked beneath it and slipped past them both, sprinting deeper into the forest.

  We couldn’t stay.

  Percy was almost on us again.

  Five more minutes of running passed before Drisnil’s breathing began to grow heavier. Each step carried a dull ache through her legs.

  We turned briefly.

  Percy was still there.

  His face was flushed crimson, sweat dripping from his brow, but his eyes were sharp with fury.

  Drisnil stopped and faced him.

  Percy slowed as he approached, shield raised, sword ready.

  Drisnil adjusted her stance, rapier in one hand, short sword in the other.

  Behind Percy, the distant thudding footsteps of the other guards were growing louder.

  Not much time.

  Drisnil struck first.

  The rapier darted low in a feint toward Percy’s foot.

  He lowered his shield instinctively—

  Then snapped it back up, catching the real thrust aimed for his chest.

  His counterattack was immediate.

  Percy stabbed toward Drisnil’s leg.

  She tried to intercept it with the short sword, but Percy disengaged the parry with brutal speed.

  Drisnil twisted aside just in time.

  The blade still bit deep into her thigh.

  Pain exploded through her leg.

  She leapt backward and ran.

  But in the confusion of the chase we had turned around.

  Two guards were suddenly directly ahead of us.

  There was no time to duel.

  One thrust clumsily toward our chest.

  Drisnil parried the strike aside.

  The second guard swung hard for our ribs.

  She raised the short sword to block, but exhaustion slowed her movement.

  Steel scraped across her side, leaving a shallow cut.

  Drisnil pushed past them and sprinted onward, forcing her body to keep moving despite the pain.

  Distance.

  That was all that mattered now.

  We ran again.

  This time the pace was no longer deliberate.

  Drisnil’s wounded leg burned with every step. We could not run faster even if we tried. Still, we held a narrow advantage.

  Percy’s heavy armour had finally begun to drain his strength.

  But he was still coming.

  If we fought him directly, we would lose.

  So we did what we did best.

  We lied.

  Drisnil angled toward the river, letting her stride falter slightly, making the limp more obvious. She glanced back several times, just enough to show fear.

  The bait worked.

  Even through his exhaustion, Percy’s expression shifted. Satisfaction crept into his face as he gained ground.

  He believed the hunt was ending.

  We reached the riverbank and ran along its edge until the small stick marking the weakened ground came into view.

  Drisnil stopped just short of it.

  Percy burst through the trees moments later.

  “I’ve finally caught you, bitch,” he growled between heavy breaths. “The last few days… I’ve dreamed about this moment.”

  Drisnil lowered her blade slightly, letting her shoulders sag.

  Fear.

  Or the appearance of it.

  Percy advanced cautiously, shield raised.

  Drisnil stepped back.

  Another step.

  Another.

  Then Percy lunged.

  His sword thrust toward her chest.

  Drisnil leapt backward — past the weakened earth — and collapsed theatrically, clutching her injured leg with a cry.

  Percy saw victory.

  He surged forward.

  His front foot struck the hollowed ground.

  The riverbank collapsed.

  Percy pitched forward as the soil gave way beneath him, crashing down the short slope toward the water.

  Drisnil was already moving.

  She rose in a single fluid motion and drove her rapier into his back.

  The blade severed his spine.

  Precise.

  Efficient.

  Percy choked as the sword slipped from his hand.

  “What… what did you do to me?” he gasped. “I can’t move—”

  Drisnil rolled him onto his back, then pushed him forward so his face plunged into the shallow river.

  Water filled his mouth as he struggled helplessly.

  “Enjoy drowning in a puddle,” she said softly.

  Percy thrashed weakly, choking, unable to lift himself.

  I turned away.

  I could not watch.

  The splashing grew weaker.

  Then it stopped.

  Several minutes later, Drisnil dragged the body away from the water.

  Percy’s face had turned blue, his eyes frozen wide with shock.

  Drisnil retrieved his fallen sword.

  One clean stroke severed his head.

  She lifted it by the hair.

  “Now,” she said calmly, “we break the rest.”

  We began walking back toward the fort.

  We did not see the two remaining guards.

  And we did not search for them.

  Our goal now was simple.

  End the fight.