The caravan halted, raucous voices drifting from outside the carriage. A soft knock sounded on the door. Melissara closed her book, set it on the small table, and went to open it.
Grace stood there, smiling as if no rift existed between them—yet her eyes remained shadowed, the smile never quite reaching them.
"Dinner first," she said. "We’ll pause here awhile."
Grace leaned in abruptly, peering past Melissara. Her eyes flickered with both delight and surprise at the face she’d longed to see.
Mushiyu, who’d been straining to see past Melissara’s blocking frame, stiffened in shock at the sight of Grace. Both offered faint smiles and nods—a gesture carrying entirely different meanings. Mushiyu’s meant greeting and reassurance; Grace’s…
Melissara’s chest tightened watching their silent understanding. Her expression darkened as she stepped forward, cutting off Grace’s view. "Do humans never learn their lessons?" she murmured coldly.
Grace merely smiled, turning away. The moment her back was turned, the smile vanished completely.
Closing the door, Melissara turned to find Mushiyu still gazing wistfully outside. Before she could speak, Mushiyu blurted, "I’m hungry."
Melissara arched a brow, sending a shigan message to Loran. "He’ll bring food shortly."
"I… could help," Mushiyu ventured, eyes hopeful.
"Help?"
"They’re cooking now—I could assist! Just… need to stretch my legs." Trapped in this carriage all day? For heaven’s sake.
"*Assist*?" Frost edged Melissara’s voice. "Have you forgotten who owns you?"
Mushiyu blinked, bewildered. That came from nowhere.
Seeing her confusion only stoked Melissara’s unfamiliar fury. She’d claimed this girl’s body—why this gnawing unease? She needed to *possess* her, utterly.
As Melissara advanced, Mushiyu instinctively shrank back—only to find herself pinned against the bed with a gentle shove. A fiery body pressed down, trapping her limbs. Warmth bloomed at her neck, sending electric tingles through her spine. Her body went limp, strength dissolving.
"Mmph—" She bit her lip hard, but soft whimpers escaped anyway. She didn’t understand this strange heat, only that it was wrong. Yet resistance was impossible. So she squeezed her eyes shut, pretending it wasn’t real.
The muffled sounds seemed to ignite Melissara. She lifted her head, cradling Mushiyu’s delicate face. When those confused eyes fluttered open, Melissara claimed her pink lips in a searing kiss.
Mushiyu’s brows furrowed sharply. She shook her head, revolted—but Melissara’s grip held firm. She *hated* this.
Feeling Mushiyu’s sudden fierce struggle, Melissara narrowed her eyes, a silent threat flashing in her gaze. Mushiyu glared back, teeth clenched stubbornly.
Just as Melissara considered forcing her compliance, Loran’s urgent message cut through the tension. She jerked upright and strode out.
Mushiyu stared after her, startled. *Why stop halfway?*
***BOOM!***
The carriage shuddered violently as if struck from outside. Mushiyu nearly tumbled off the bed. Shouts erupted beyond the walls.
Instinctively, she looked to Melissara for help—and caught the elf turning back, her eyes locking onto Mushiyu’s fearful gaze.
*Prey seeks its master when frightened. Just like my little rain.* A strange satisfaction washed over Melissara, clearing the earlier tightness in her chest.
"Stay here." Melissara vanished without another word.
The door closed, sealing out the chaos. Silence descended, thick and heavy.
*What… just happened?*
Mushiyu’s eyes drifted to the window. Hesitantly, she reached out. Her fingertip brushed the glass—no sting this time. Relief flooded her. She pushed.
It wouldn’t budge.
After checking every seam and finding no latch, she gave up. *Probably nothing serious. They’ll handle it.* She reached for a book.
***CRASH!***
The door flew open, noise and clanging metal flooding in. Grace stood silhouetted in the doorway.
"Grace? What—"
Grace smiled, left hand hidden behind her back. She dipped into an elegant bow, then extended her right hand. "My lady," she murmured, voice warm as honey, "ready to roam the world with me?"
Mushiyu stared at that outstretched hand. Understanding dawned—her eyes widened, then softened into pure, trembling joy. Slowly, she placed her small, pale hand into Grace’s calloused one, roughened by years of swordplay. It closed firmly around hers.
*Freedom?* The solid warmth in Grace’s grip flooded her with certainty. Already, she pictured sunlit roads and open skies.
Grace’s pulse hammered at the delicate touch. Without hesitation, she turned, pulling Mushiyu into the night.
The fantasy shattered instantly.
Scarlet filled Mushiyu’s vision. The stench of blood—thick, coppery, nauseating—slammed into her. Corpses littered the ground, tangled beyond recognition. Pools of crimson spread beneath them. Shattered innards and severed intestines glistened in the moonlight. Broken tree trunks were spattered with gore. Shadows clashed everywhere, no one sparing a glance for the dead.
"Don’t look. *Follow me!*" Grace squeezed her hand, yanking her forward.
Night had swallowed the forest whole. It thrummed like a caged beast. Battle cries, screams of agony, clashing weapons, and thunderous explosions ripped through the air—a battlefield alive with death.
*This wasn’t minor.* The Elven King wouldn’t stir for trivialities.
Panic clawed up Mushiyu’s throat.
*Where were Melissara and Loran?*
