Sometime after Lura and Aldermoon had been dragged off to their cells, Lura had cried herself to sleep. In fragmented dreams, the events of the past week played out in haunting detail. She relived the stress that had settled over her daily routine, tasks she once found joy in now colored by an unshakable dread. Every little reminder of the elf that haunted her in both thought and deed sent fresh waves of anxiety through her, leaving her constantly on edge.

Therefore, it was much to her relief when her Aldermoon approved shore leave for her and her friends. A reprieve was exactly what she needed. Brimming with excitement, she had eagerly convinced her friends to plan a trip to Clayborn, where they would stay with her aunt and uncle, who had taken residence in the city a number of completions ago. But that relief quickly soured when, in an effort to beat the crowds, the only boat available had sold out. The group, wanting to get a jump start on leave, decided to rent a room in the local inn on level two. Lara was more than happy to oblige, but the minute she saw the captain in the inn she regretted the decision which had marked the rest of her life.

In her dream, she saw herself buy dinner and carry it up to her room. She felt again the wooziness that followed eating the tainted meal, the confusion as she woke in a field, soldiers surrounding her, and someone else's clothes clinging awkwardly to her body. The nightmare didn't end there; it wove into a series of endless interrogations, starvation, and noise that tore at her sanity. And just when she thought it would end, a fresh horror unfurled, one she hadn't recalled until now: she was back in the inn, her mind hazy and her body trapped beneath the captain.

"Sergeant Lura, are you alright?"

The call broke through the nightmare's grip. She jerked awake, her body slick with sweat, which mingled with the grime that clung to her skin since waking up in the field days earlier. Her heart pounded wildly as she looked around, her breaths short and desperate. She was still caged, still in the dungeon. But this time, she wasn't alone. Lieutenant Aldermoon stood by her side, her expression laced with concern.

Gratitude stirred faintly within Lura. Through it all, Aldermoon had remained by her, but guilt twisted in her stomach. She feared she had dragged her superior down into her own nightmare.

I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm just..." Lura's voice faltered, the end of her dream pressing down on her. The knowledge of what just happened sent her into shock. Her body went weak, her heart racing again. Dizzy, she clung to the bars in a futile effort to steady herself. Her face grew pale, and her eyes widened as Aldermoon reached out a comforting hand.

"Lura, it's okay. It's just me."

But Lura shrank away from Aldermoon's touch, recoiling from any contact, shame and disgust roiling within her. She felt beyond unclean, a dirtiness that no bath could ever cleanse. A noise echoed from somewhere outside the cell, and her panic surged again. Her gaze darted around the cell, searching for the source, though only Aldermoon was there. Instinctively, she pressed herself against the wall, seeking safety in the shadows.

Aldermoon's hand dropped, and she took a cautious step forward, stopping when Lura cringed.

"Lura," Aldermoon said gently, her voice thick with sorrow. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Lura felt her own prickling at the edge.

How had it come to this? Lara thought. Just five years ago, she had everything. Born an only child to prosperous merchant parents, she'd grown up in luxury, her family among the wealthiest on the second level. Everything had been provided for her: makeup to perfect her fair skin, treatments to keep her blonde hair shiny and sleek. Her body was a temple. High cheekbones, pointed ears, and graceful curves had drawn many worshippers from the third to first levels of the city. For the longest time, she thought beauty was her destiny; to one day sit on a throne where pampering and praise would come at her every whim.

But her world shifted after mandatory conscription, despite her parents' efforts to keep her out. Military life had shown her value beyond her appearance, where fellow soldiers respected her skill and dedication. For reasons beyond her own comprehension, soldiering came naturally in a way formal education never had. In a few short completions, she rose swiftly to sergeant, proud to stand alongside role models like Lieutenant Aldermoon and the former satyr captain. She had dreams of a lifelong career, of one day leading her own division.

But none of that mattered now. Within a single week, she'd lost her beauty, her respect, her rank, and her innocence. All that remained was her life, and even that would soon be gone. As Aldermoon's gaze lingered on her, sharing in her sorrow, Lura slid to the ground, resigned to her fate. New sounds echoed through the room, but she no longer cared.

"Hello?" Aldermoon called softly into the silence.

Nothing returned, except the soft tears making their way down Lara's dirt crusted face. Not even the wind answered, its persistence a common sound on the third level. Instead, Lura curled up, wrapping her slender arms around her knees, sinking into herself.

"Is anyone there?" Aldermoon's voice grew more insistent.

Silence once again answered its hollow echo. "By the god or goddess you serve, please...please help me."

Lura wondered if whatever had made the noise was already gone, not that it would have made much difference. Her time might not be up just yet, but as she considered the grime clinging to her skin, she almost welcomed the idea of death's quiet knock.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Just as the thought solidified, a voice called out from behind the door. "I'm coming." Both she and Aldermoon turned sharply toward the source, watching as a male elf entered through the now-open door.

Lura didn't recognize the Youngling of the Stars, and judging by the wary look on Aldermoon's face, neither did she. It was clear by the red and silver colors he wore; he wasn't from around Goldale. Though most of Goldale's inhabitants were elves like himself, there was something different in the way he carried his body: not with the showiness of visiting nobles, but with the poise of someone whose every movement was calculated, his stance subtly prepared for action at any moment.

The elf strode to the bars, his gaze analyzing the lock. "I'm here to get you out. Either of you have a pin?"

Without hesitation, Aldermoon pulled a pin from her hair and handed it over, her voice far from cautious of the stranger who seemed intent on helping hem. "Who are you?"

As he turned the pin in the lock's tumbler, he replied, "My name is Bidant. I'm a member of Elite Team One. The Lieutenant upstairs said you two could use a hand."

Aldermoon's face lit up. "You're with Captain Thepa?" At the mention of Thepa, a sliver of hope stirred in Lura's chest. Slowly, almost involuntarily, she loosened her grip on her knees.

"Yes," Bidant answered as he twisted the final tumbler into place. With a satisfying click, the lock released, and the door swung open. Bidant smirked, clearly pleased. Aldermoon raised an eyebrow at his pride. Shrugging, he responded, "the things you pick up from a daughter of Swampspell."

Hope warmed within Lura, pushing aside her earlier thoughts of surrender. She didn't fully trust Bidant, not the way Aldermoon seemed to, but if Captain Thepa had sent him, then maybe she finally had a chance to escape the city. Maybe she could make it to her aunt and uncle, start over, rebuild. She took a tentative step toward the iron door—then froze as another sound cut through the moment. For the second time, the door beyond the cell swung open.

Worried, Lura retreated back towards the wall. It was the other female lieutenant she had seen at the trial. Killem...or Kilym or something. For her it was a name that sounded like death, was associated with death, and would be bringing her death before she could escape its grasp. Strangely enough, neither of the other two seemed as bothered by her presence as she was.

"Ha!" the Lieutenant laughed. I'd knew you do it.

Bidant rolled his eyes, but Aldermoon stepped forward and embraced the new arrival. "You're risking your own career, you know that?" Aldermoon said, her voice laced with both gratitude and concern.

"Maybe so," the elf replied, unbothered. "But if subterfuge and exploitation is what the Goldale's army has turned into, I'd rather take my chances elsewhere. Anyway, with the chaos across the city, they're not likely to notice you're gone until it's too late. Even if they do, you will at least have the paperwork making it official." She handed Bidant a thick stack of papers, bearing an official seal. "I've also arranged for Lura's parents to board a ship bound for Clayborn. Unfortunately, you'll have to make your way through the western hills to reach them."

Bidant's brow creased. "I just came from that area. Why is the gate unguarded?"

It was there Lura could see the female elf close her eyes in immense frustration. She could tell, she was not happy with the decision.

A shadow of frustration crossed the female elf's face, and she closed her eyes briefly, as if stifling an exasperated sigh. "The beast army is south of us. We've left most of our resources stationed at the docks, the east gate, and around headquarters. Citizens who want to leave are free to leave towards the west. Those who want to stay can gather food for a long siege. It was..." again she closed her eyes. "The captain's plan. On the plus side, the chaos works to our advantage. She pulled out manacles and tossed them to Lura and Bidant. "These will help sell the ruse. I've got clothing for you as well," she added, handing Bidant a standard Goldale outfit and a First Sergeant beret. "With these, no one should question you, but if they do, the documents should be enough. Only the captain would know they're not from him."

Aldermoon embraced her friend. "We can't thank you enough, Lieutenant Kilyn."

"Please, call me Elineia."

"Ready?" Bidant asked, reaching for the manacles.

Lura's heart pounded as she extended her wrists. She was terrified—afraid of being caught, afraid of seeing that awful Saintian again. But knowing this was her only shot at escaping death, she whispered a small prayer.

"May El be with us."

Elineia nodded. "I'll escort you out."

Despite Lura's fears of everything going wrong, plan went smoothly. They made it to the front door where Elineia put on a convincing show of shoving them off, but no one stopped them. Even as they made it through the large interlocking gate that to her surprise was unmanned, they didn't run into a single Saintian who even bothered to ask 'what are you doing?' Everyone she saw seemed more concerned about themselves than the strange transport of prisoners across the fields and hills around them. However, by the time they got twenty feet passed the gate, Aldermoon stopped and looked back towards the city.

"What's wrong?" Bidant asked.

"I can't go. I can't leave my home in the hands of that incompetent fool. My people are going to need leadership."

"But you'll die," Lura objected.

"Then I'll die either having saved my people or attempting to have saved them. Either way, it is a noble death." Aldermoon took a small step in Lura's direction but stopped thinking better of it. "I'm sorry I could not have done the same for you."

Lura still felt dirty and shameful, but she knew it wasn't Aldermoon's fault. Knowing it would most likely be the last time either of them saw each other, she swallowed her shame and hugged the one female she admired most in this world. "I won't forget you."

"Take care of her Bidant. Tell Thepa what's happening here. Maybe there's still time for the Beachwick and the nations to come to our aid."

Bidant nodded and removed both their shackles. Afterwards, Lura watched Aldermoon's retreating form as she once more traveled through the interlocking gate. After she disappeared behind its down walls, the two of them took off towards the hills.

For thirty minutes they ran. The stiffness of the last few days did not sit well with Lura but the farther away she was from the city, the better she felt. She could tell Bidant was keeping pace with her and for that she was grateful.

As they started to pass the second hill, Bidant stopped dead in his tracks. Worried that something was going on, Lura checked her surroundings. From here they were well away from the city. She could see for miles and not a single living thing could be seen except the sea to the south, the hills to the west, the city walls to the east, and the mountains to the north. Confused that she might have missed something, she studied his expression to find his eyes closed and a goofy grin on his face.

"Something wrong? Lura asked him.

"No," Bidant said as he once more opened his eyes. His cheeks flushed and as he started moving forward once more, Lura could tell there was a pep in his step. Without looking back, he murmured one last thing to her utter bewilderment

"She loves me."