The Valerian Manor had always felt like a gilded prison, its grandeur suffocating, its beauty masking the cold indifference that permeated its walls. 

Tonight was no different. 

After the humiliating tea incident in the hall, I couldn’t bear to stay another moment.

Every insult, every condescending glance echoed in my mind, a relentless storm of torment.

I needed air.

I needed to escape. 

In the quiet of my small, dim room, I rummaged through a chest of discarded items.

My hand brushed against the rough fabric of an old cloak—Elara’s, of course.

It had been hers when she was younger, too small for her now, and handed down to me.

The edges were frayed, the fabric worn thin in places. 

I pulled it over my shoulders, the cloak hanging awkwardly on my frame.

It didn’t fit well, the hem stopping short above my knees, but it was better than nothing.

It offered some semblance of protection against the cold night air, even if it reminded me of her sneering face. 

Wrapping the cloak tighter around myself, I slipped out of the room and into the hall. 

The halls were quiet as I moved, the lingering scent of lavender and tea clinging to me like a ghost.

My legs moved instinctively, taking me to the back corridors of the manor. 

These narrow passages were far removed from the opulent main halls, their walls plain and unadorned.

It was here, in these hidden spaces, that I first felt a faint breeze brushing against my ankle. 

I paused, frowning. 

A breeze? 

Indoors? 

Crouching down, I ran my fingers along the base of the wall.

The air grew cooler as I pressed forward, brushing aside an old tapestry that had seen better days.

Beneath it, hidden from view, was a small wooden panel. 

My heart raced as I pushed it aside, revealing a narrow opening barely large enough for me to crawl through. 

A doghole. 

The realization sent a thrill through me.

I had heard whispers of this passage from the servants—a forgotten escape route used during emergencies long ago.

Now, it was my chance to break free, even if just for a while. 

Without hesitation, I dropped to my knees and crawled inside.

The stone scraped against my hands and knees, the air growing fresher with every inch I pushed forward.

The darkness of the passage was stifling, but the promise of freedom urged me on. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I emerged on the other side. 

The cool night air hit me like a balm, and I gasped, drinking it in.

The forest stretched out before me, alive with the symphony of crickets and rustling leaves.

Moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting silver shadows on the forest floor.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I breathed freely. 

The forest was a world of its own, vast and untouched by the suffocating rules of noble life.

My feet moved almost automatically, carrying me deeper into its embrace.

The earth beneath me was soft, covered in a layer of moss and fallen leaves.

The scent of pine and damp soil filled my lungs, grounding me in the present. 

As I wandered, a faint glow caught my attention.

It flickered in the distance, warm and inviting—a campfire.

My heart raced, equal parts curiosity and caution. Who could be out here? Were they friend or foe? 

Steeling myself, I moved closer, careful to keep my steps silent. 

The scene that unfolded before me was unlike anything I’d ever seen. 

A group of people sat around the fire, their laughter and chatter filling the night air.

They were dressed in sturdy leathers and armor, weapons resting within easy reach.

These weren’t nobles or common travelers—they were mercenaries. 

I hesitated at the edge of the camp, the shadows clinging to me like an old, protective cloak. 

Then, one of the mercenaries noticed me.

His eyes, sharp and alert, locked onto my small figure.

The camp fell silent, the idle chatter dying as all attention turned toward me. 

“Lost, little one?” a deep, commanding voice held a touch of concern called out. 

The man who spoke stood from where he’d been sitting by the fire, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow that danced in the flickering glow.

His presence was formidable, his movements deliberate yet calm.

His eyes narrowed as they focused on me. 

I stepped forward cautiously, my trembling hands clutching the edge of my borrowed cloak.

"I—I’m not lost. Seeking refuge," I said, my voice quieter than I intended. 

The man, Kellan, leaned forward slightly, examining me with a keen gaze.

His expression shifted, softening just a fraction as he took in my appearance—my small frame, my disheveled hair, and the ill-fitting cloak that bore the unmistakable quality of nobility. 

“Refuge, huh?” His tone held curiosity, but not unkindness.

“Come closer,” he said, gesturing to the fire.

“You’re safe here.” 

I hesitated.

Was I truly safe?

But something about his tone—calm and steady—made me trust him.

Slowly, I stepped forward, leaving the shadows behind and stepping into the warm circle of firelight. 

The group around the fire watched me with varying degrees of curiosity.

Some looked amused, others wary, but none made a move to question Kellan’s invitation.

I glanced nervously at the weapons within their reach—daggers, swords, and an axe that gleamed ominously in the firelight. 

“Take a seat,” Kellan said, motioning to a log near the fire.

I obeyed, perching on the edge of the seat, my back stiff with tension. 

One of the mercenaries handed me a piece of bread, and I took it with trembling hands.

The warmth of the fire washed over me, thawing the cold that had settled deep in my bones. 

“What’s your name, little one?” Kellan asked, his voice steady. 

“Aria,” I replied softly. 

“Aria,” he repeated, nodding.

“Well, Aria, I’m Kellan. Kellan Emberheart. These folks here? We’re the Ember Wolves.” 

The name tugged at my memory—my father had mentioned hiring a group of mercenaries to deal with the increasing monster activity near the manor.

So this was them. 

Kellan sat down again, his posture relaxed but alert.

“Where are your parents, Aria? Shouldn’t a noble girl like you be tucked safely in bed right now?” 

My breath caught.

I hadn’t told him I was noble, but my cloak had already betrayed me.

I lowered my gaze, my fingers clutching the bread. 

“They’re not… I don’t…”

My words faltered, the weight of everything pressing down on me.

The humiliation, the loneliness, the constant torment—it all spilled out in broken pieces.

“They don’t care about me.” 

Kellan’s eyes softened, and the mercenaries around the fire exchanged quiet glances.

For a moment, no one spoke, the crackle of the fire filling the silence. 

“Is that so?” Kellan finally said, his voice low. 

I nodded, my shoulders trembling as I fought back tears. “No one does.” 

He let out a slow breath, leaning back slightly.

“Well, Aria,” he said, his tone shifting to something lighter, “you’re here now. And out here, no one’s going to tell you you’re not good enough.” 

His words surprised me.

I looked up, meeting his gaze.

He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried warmth even in its simplicity. 

One of the other mercenaries, a wiry man with sharp features, chuckled.

“She’s got guts, showing up out here in the middle of the night,” he said. “I like her already.” 

The tension eased slightly as the group returned to their previous conversations.

Kellan gestured for me to eat, and I took a hesitant bite of the bread.

It was rough and plain, but it was more comforting than any meal I’d had in the manor. 

As the night wore on, I found myself relaxing, the firelight wrapping around me like a protective shield.

The mercenaries were loud and rough, their laughter echoing through the forest, but there was something genuine about them—a kind of honesty that didn’t exist in the polished halls of Valerian Manor. 

For the first time in years, I felt… welcome. 

Kellan leaned back against a log, his axe resting beside him.

“You’ve got some fire in you, Aria,” he said, his tone almost approving.

“It’s good. Keep it.” 

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. 

That night, as the fire crackled and the stars shone above, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t known in years.

The doghole had led me to freedom, and the Ember Wolves had given me something I hadn’t dared to hope for: a place where I wasn’t judged, where I wasn’t alone. 

For the first time, I allowed myself to dream of a life beyond the walls of Valerian Manor.

And for the first time, I believed it might be possible.