But something else remained — a tension in the air.
The kind of stillness that comes before lightning.

I stepped out from the mouth of the cave, slow. Careful.

It was night again — darker than before. The stars seemed closer somehow. Too close. Like they were watching.

I moved by treetop again, eyes scanning for torchlight. None. Until I reached the forest’s edge.

Two guards. Guns drawn. Eyes sharp.

They weren’t searching.
They were waiting.

They knew I was coming.
So I moved first.

I reached for the blade. The one my sister had hidden in her robes. The one wrapped in cloth, kissed with blood.

“Be careful,” she whispered. “We’re all praying for you.”

“You’re meant for more than these chains,” the elder said. “And one day, you’ll be the one who breaks them.”

I moved.

The first guard never saw me. My blade met his neck with a wet, quiet sound. The other turned, shouted, fired.

Too slow.

I struck the gun from his hand, slammed my heel into his jaw.

Silence.

I stood in the dark, both hands shaking. Blood on my fingers. Breath tight.

And then — the stillness changed, tilted.

The wind shifted.
The earth beneath me… pulsed.

Like something had seen me.
Or remembered me.

The trees leaned in.
The air grew heavy.
A hum, low and deep, filled the space between my ears.

I turned —
And the world split open.

To be continued.