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“Trying to leave so soon?” he sneers. His voice trembles with anger or maybe fear.

My mouth goes dry. “I—I just?—”

He doesn’t let me finish. He fires. Instinct kicks in; I fling myself sideways. The bolt slams into the stone, narrowly missingmy shoulder. Splinters of rock spray my face. Pain stings my cheek, but I ignore it, launching myself forward before he can reload.

With a desperation-born strength, I crash into him, grappling for the crossbow. He’s stronger than I am—muscles honed by training, while I’ve been half-starved—but I have nothing to lose. I ram my knee into his groin, and he gasps. His grip loosens just enough for me to yank the weapon away and fling it over the parapet. It clatters down the outer wall, lost in the ravine.

He snarls, baring pointed teeth as he draws a short sword. The blade glints in the overcast light. My entire body shakes. I have no weapon beyond the chain coiled around my neck, but desperation makes me swing that coil like a whip. The links strike his wrist, knocking the sword aside.

“Filthy slave,” he hisses, lunging. I dodge as best I can, yet he manages to slam me against the parapet. My back hits hard stone, and the breath rushes out of me. Stars dance in my vision. The next thing I know, his hand grips my collar, yanking me up to glare into my eyes.

I see pure malice there. “You think you can run?” he spits. “I’ll carve your?—”

He never finishes. I twist the slack of my chain around his forearm and jerk with all my might, forcing him off balance. He stumbles, foot catching on a loose chunk of masonry. For a breathless moment, we both teeter at the edge. Then, with a guttural scream, he topples backward over the broken parapet. He claws at me, trying to drag me with him, but I wrench free at the last second.

The world slows as he plummets. I watch, horrified, as his body hits the stone ledge below with a sickening crunch. Blood smears across the collapsed wall. My stomach churns.I’ve never killed anyone before.

For a heartbeat, I stand there, chest heaving.Move, Elyria. You have no time.

I rush to the rope. Shouts rise from below—someone must’ve heard the struggle or seen the guard’s fall. My head throbs, my heart pounding loud enough to drown out everything else. I clutch the rope, praying it’ll hold.If I stay, I’m dead. If I go… I might still die.

But I’ve made my choice. I hoist myself over the edge, wrapping the rope around one forearm to control my descent. The chain around my neck scrapes painfully, and the collar digs into my skin, but I bear it, gritting my teeth. My feet scramble against the wet stone. My hands burn as the rope slides. Thunder—or something like it—rumbles overhead, and the wind buffets me, making me sway.

I’m about fifteen feet down when the rope suddenly creaks, threads snapping. I gasp, clinging tighter.Not now, not now.Another snap. A jolt as the rope gives an inch. My nails bite into my palms. If it snaps entirely, I’ll fall the rest of the way.

Above, a dark elf shouts, “There she is!” I dare a glance upward. Two silhouettes lean over the broken parapet. One raises a crossbow.Gods.

Desperation fuels me. I let go, dropping the remaining distance. The impact slams into my legs, sending me sprawling on jagged rocks. Pain flares through my left ankle and my shoulder. Gravel tears my palms. I roll onto my side, fighting nausea.Keep moving.

Bolts whistle past, clattering against the stones. Some ricochet, sparking in the drizzle. I scramble to my feet, ignoring the fiery pain in my ankle. The forest lies maybe a hundred paces downhill, separated from me by a tumble of rocky slope.

Bent nearly double to keep my head down, I half-run, half-limp across the loose rocks. My chain rattles with each jarring step, but the adrenaline drowns out the discomfort. More shoutsecho behind me, but I don’t look back.Don’t slow down, don’t let them see you.

At last, I reach a cluster of scraggly trees near the bottom of the slope. I duck behind one, panting. My vision blurs with pain, but I can’t let that stop me. I press a hand to my throbbing ankle, wincing. Probably a bad sprain, but I can still stand on it, more or less.

Better to face a battered foot than face the dark elves again.

Through the branches, I see movement along the fortress wall. A group of elves points in my direction. The clang of metal suggests they’re gathering a party to follow.I have minutes—if that.

I push deeper into the wild growth. Twisted roots snag my feet. The stench of damp earth fills my nostrils, mixing with pine needles and rotting leaves. The forest is thick enough to hamper direct pursuit, but it also slows me down. My ankle screams with every step, sending jolts of agony up my leg.I can’t stop.

Tangled bushes claw at my clothes, scraping my arms. My collar snags on low-hanging branches, and I have to yank myself free. Rain, or maybe just leftover drizzle, patters on the canopy overhead. My breathing grows ragged.

Branches snap behind me. I freeze, heart lurching. Are the dark elves already on my trail? Or is it something else?Gargoyles.A wave of dread washes over me as I recall the stories: they can track human women across impossible distances, especially if they suspect purna blood.

I slip behind a massive tree trunk, pressing my back to the bark. My chain rattles softly. I grit my teeth, straining my ears. More snapping twigs, the hush of parted foliage. I risk a peek around the trunk, expecting dark elf scouts with crossbows. Instead, I see a pair of large boars, snuffling among the brambles. My entire body sags with relief.

But that relief is short-lived. A rumble overhead makes me jerk my gaze skyward. The clouds are still heavy and gray, promising more storms, but…I sense something.A shift in the air, a ripple of power.Am I imagining it?

I brush off the feeling and limp onward. Thorns slash at my ankles, drawing thin lines of blood. I can’t help noticing how loud I seem compared to the hush of the forest—breathing heavily, chain clanking, stepping on dead leaves.A child could follow my trail.But I have to keep going.

Eventually, the ground evens out, and I come across a rough path—likely a game trail used by forest creatures. It weaves through towering pines, each trunk shrouded in moss. I pause, leaning on a tree for support as I catch my breath. My ankle throbs like it’s on fire, my lungs burning from the frantic run.

I did it.I’m free of the fortress, for now. But the question churns in my gut:Am I actually safer here?

The dark elves might still hunt me. Worse yet, the gargoyles are scouring the countryside, killing any human woman they find. The forest might hide me from one threat, only to deliver me into the jaws of another.

But at least I have a chance.