The enemy commander, wounded and grimacing, yanked the arrow from his shoulder and hastily wrapped the wound. Blood soaked through the cloth, but his voice rang out with force:

> “Fall back! Everyone, fall back!”

The enemy lines broke in panic. For a heartbeat, the street fell silent.

Nujah hurried down the steps, scanning the chaos around him.

> “Erian! Where are you?!”

A whisper rose from the bushes. Erian peeked his head out, pale and panting.

> “I’m here, brother!”

Nujah rushed to him, urgency tightening every word.

> “Where’s Lyra?!”

Erian, out of breath, replied quickly:

> “She tried to run away.. but they caught her. She’s locked in her room!”

Nujah dropped his head for a moment, fists clenched.

> “Alright. Stay here. Don’t move. Don’t let anyone see you.”

He sprinted back across the street toward Seren Valinea.

The moment she saw him approaching, Seren lit up—not like a commander greeting a soldier, but like a girl seeing someone she deeply cared about safe and alive. Her face brightened in full, heartfelt relief. She laughed softly and waved at him, smiling wide."

> “There you are! Come—come! You did amazing!”

The general beside her gave a firm nod.

> “We would've lost too many without you. The Prince wasn’t wrong about you.”

Still panting from his run, Nujah gasped:

> “They’ve got her... locked inside our house. We need to move. Now.”

Seren’s expression shifted, her joy folding into focus. Before she could speak, the general leaned close and spoke in a level, grim tone:

> “That commotion was loud. They’ve likely heard it already. Princess, we’ll go ahead with sixty men. The rest stay with you. Four soldiers will escort the child to safety—Nujah, you’re with us.”

Seren hesitated for a single second—then nodded once, sharp and sure.

The general turned and bellowed the order:

> “Units A and T, on me! Target: Vantess Estate! The rest, defend the Princess!”

Nujah stepped forward.

> “The tunnel’s still there. I used to sneak out through it.”

The squad moved swiftly, weaving through scorched alleys and toppled carts, until they reached the rear of the estate. Smoke still clung to the buildings around them. Nujah ran ahead, placing his hands on a section of the stone wall. A hidden mechanism clicked, and a block shifted back.

> “Here.”

The general motioned. Two soldiers moved ahead, blades drawn. They slipped into the narrow tunnel; the rest followed in silence.

It was dark, damp. The air was heavy and stale. Every bootstep echoed like thunder. Nujah whispered:

> “Second block on the right. Behind it—stairs, leading up.”

One by one, they climbed. The house above was quiet, but something was moving inside.

Nujah crept forward. From down the hall came footsteps. A guard.

He ducked into a cabinet. The general raised two fingers—signal.

A soldier loosed an arrow without a sound.

The guard collapsed instantly.

They reached Lyra’s door. Still locked. A voice came from behind the wood, soft and afraid:

> “Brother...?”

Nujah leaned in.

> “Lyra! It’s me. Open the door!”

The general turned without hesitation.

> “Break it.”

Two swift blows.

The door burst inward. There, on her knees, was Lyra—eyes wide with tears, frozen in fear. Nujah rushed in and swept her into his arms.

> “I’m here. I came for you.”

Without turning, the general spoke:

> “We’re moving. Quiet and fast.”

From the far wing, more guards suddenly burst in. A short, brutal clash erupted. One soldier fell wounded—but the group pushed back into the tunnel and escaped.

Outside, the dawn had broken. The skies above Calvenhold glowed with streaks of orange and gold.

And in the distance, horns began to blow.

Arthur’s army was coming.

Seren Valinea saw them from afar. She stopped—eyes wide, breath held.

Then slowly, beautifully, she smiled.

---