Orla:

"Milo, run!" I screamed, my voice barely piercing through the chaos around us. 

My heart hammered wildly in my chest, each beat echoing the frantic drumming of our feet against the uneven ground. The soldiers' shouts grew louder behind us, their pursuit relentless, the clanking of their armor like a death knell ringing in my ears.

"Milo, hurry!" I urged, but the fear in his eyes mirrored my own. We both knew the truth: there was no outrunning them. 

Ahead, the edge of the ravine loomed, a gaping maw in the earth that dropped sharply down into an abyss. It offered no comfort—only the promise of a death that was less painful than the one waiting behind us.

Arrows zipped past, one after another, slicing through the air way too close for comfort. I felt the cold rush of wind as one missed my ear by an inch, and another nicked Milo's arm, cutting through his sleeve and leaving a thin line of blood. He stumbled, and my heart lurched in my chest.

"Don't Stop! Keep going!" I cried, yanking him forward. 

The ravine was just ahead—our only chance, if it could even be called that. My mind raced, but all I could think of was how close the soldiers were, how close death was.

Another volley of arrows rained down on us, embedding in the ground just inches from where we ran. 

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Then, the ground itself seemed to betray us, crumbling away beneath our feet as we reached the very edge of the cliff. I could feel the earth shifting, the loose stones skittering into the vast expanse, swallowed by the rushing waters below.

I grabbed Milo's hand, our fingers locking together in a grip born of sheer desperation. 

"Milo, we have to jump," I said, my voice barely more than a breath. 

I could hear the soldiers closing in, their shouts growing louder, their footsteps pounding the ground as they closed the distance. We were out of time.

"On three," Milo said, his voice steady despite the tremor I felt in his hand. "One... two..."

Before he could say three, I tightened my grip on his hand and leapt into the void. 

The world seemed to fall away beneath us, the wind tearing at our clothes, the ground vanishing as we plunged into the ravine and arrows still flying past us. The sensation of falling was overwhelming, my stomach twisting in knots as we plummeted toward the river. Time seemed to slow, every second stretching into an eternity as we descended into the unknown.

For a moment, I closed my eyes, blocking out the chaos, the terror, the certainty of doom. All that mattered was the feel of Milo's hand in mine, our fingers locked together in a grip that refused to let go. We were falling, yes—but we were falling together, and somehow, that made the darkness a little less terrifying.

The wind roared in my ears, drowning out everything else. We were nothing but two figures in the night, hurtling toward whatever fate awaited us at the bottom. And as the darkness closed in around us, I couldn't help but wonder if this was how it was meant to end. This couldn't be it could it?

As the fear tightened its grip on my heart, a tiny spark of hope flickered in the back of my mind. Maybe, just maybe, we would survive the fall. Maybe we would find a way out of this madness, this world. Or maybe, we were simply running from fate, and it was only a matter of time before it caught up with us.

And then, with a final rush of wind and a sharp gasp, the world went black.