Meisha held her wrist over the chest for one final heartbeat, letting the faint thrum of recognition settle into her bones. The markings beneath her skin pulsed once more—dark, branching lines that shimmered faintly before fading back under the bracelet's suppression.
That was enough.
More than enough.
She straightened slowly, breath still uneven, but a quiet satisfaction blooming beneath the pain. She had found something. Something real. Something Varrick had hidden—and something that responded to her.
She stepped back from the mantle, forcing her body to move despite the lingering ache. With careful, controlled breaths, she crossed the room and slipped out the door, closing it softly behind her.
The corridor greeted her with silence.
Her tray still sat where she'd placed it on the floor. Meisha wiped the last trace of tears from her cheeks, composed her expression, and lifted the tray with steady hands. The pain had dulled to a low throb—manageable, ignorable.
Meisha walked the familiar path back to the kitchen, her steps light, her mind racing. When she entered, the cook glanced up, ready with another teasing remark—but something in her face must have warned him off. He simply nodded, taking the tray from her without a word.
Meisha murmured a polite thanks and slipped away before anyone could ask questions.
The moment she reached the servants' corridor, her pace quickened. She moved through the estate with purpose, weaving past other workers, keeping her head down but her focus razor‑sharp.
When she reached the door of her sleeping quarters, she opened it and closed it quietly behind her, then descended the narrow stairs into the lower room.
Kaydence was there.
Sitting upright on her bed, eyes closed, posture perfectly still—deep in meditation.
Meisha froze for a moment, not wanting to disturb him. His presence, even silent, filled the room with a calm she desperately needed. So, she moved quietly, gathering the items she needed for the Nykon Forest: her herb‑collecting satchel, a small garden tool, her winter boots, and a thick cloak to guard against the cold.
She tried to keep her movements steady, but her hands trembled. Her mind was still tangled with the memory of the chest, the tug, the markings beneath her skin.
In the midst of her frantic gathering, Kaydence's eyes opened.
He watched her for a heartbeat—silent, assessing—before speaking.
"Meisha, you're back. I didn't hear you come down the stairs."
She turned at the sound of his voice, startled. "Oh. Yes. When I entered, I came quietly and saw you were meditating. I wanted to wait until you were finished."
Kaydence rose from the bed with fluid grace. He crossed the small space between them and gently took her by the arm, halting her hurried movements.
"Meisha."
His voice was soft but firm, grounding.
She finally looked at him.
"This isn't like you," he said, searching her face. "You're all over the place. What happened while you were gone?"
Meisha opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her thoughts were tangled, racing, too many threads pulling in different directions. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breath.
"I… Kaydence, I have so much to tell you," She admitted, voice trembling. "I don't even know where to begin."
Kaydence's expression softened. He reached out instinctively, gently taking hold of her other arm—the one with the bracelet.
The moment his fingers brushed her skin, Meisha winced.
A sharp, involuntary sound escaped her throat.
Kaydence froze.
He stepped back immediately, hands lifting as if he'd touched something fragile. His eyes dropped to her forearm—and that's when he saw them.
The faint, branching markings still lingering beneath her skin. Dark lines tracing the outline of her veins like ink that refused to fade.
Slowly, carefully, he reached for her wrist again—this time with deliberate gentleness. His fingers barely touched her skin as he turned her arm to see the markings more clearly.
"Well," he said quietly, his voice steady but edged with concern, "you can start by telling me about this."
Meisha swallowed hard. She looked away, unable to meet his eyes.
"I can't tell you everything right now," she said, the words heavy with truth and restraint. "Not yet. But what I can tell you is that… I took your advice."
She lifted her gaze to him, and for a moment, the frantic energy inside her softened.
"And I made a breakthrough."
Kaydence studied her for a long moment—searching her face, weighing her words, sensing the urgency she wasn't yet ready to voice. Then he nodded, releasing her wrist with the same care he'd taken in holding it.
"Alright," he said, stepping back just enough to give her space. "I trust you."
The sincerity in his voice steadied her more than anything else had since she left Varrick's study.
"When you're finished with everything for the evening," he continued, "I'll be here. We can talk then."
Meisha exhaled, relief loosening her shoulders. She nodded once, grateful for his patience, his presence, his willingness to wait.
There was still so much to do. So much to uncover. And the forest was calling.
Meisha tightened the straps of her herb satchel, slipped on her winter boots, and pulled her thick cloak around her shoulders. The cold outside would be biting, but the forest was calling, and she needed its quiet more than ever.
She started up the stairs toward the exit.
"Meisha—wait a moment before you leave."
Kaydence's voice stopped her mid‑step.
She turned back around, descending the few steps she had just climbed. "I'll be okay, Kaydence."
He shook his head, stepping closer. "It's not that. Let me see the injured arm again."
Meisha hesitated only a second before extending her arm, pulling back the cloak to reveal her forearm. The faint, branching markings were still visible beneath her skin—dark lines tracing the path of her veins.
Kaydence examined her arm with a careful, almost reverent touch. His brows furrowed.
"I didn't think this would happen so soon," he murmured. "But this is another side effect of the bracelet."
He gently slid the bracelet further up her forearm, away from her wrist, to inspect the skin beneath. Meisha's concern deepened.
"What do you mean, another side effect?"
She barely finished the question before Kaydence acted.
He lifted her wrist toward his mouth with swift, instinctive precision—too fast for her to pull away—and pressed his fangs lightly against her skin.
"Kaydence—!"
A sharp sting made her gasp.
"Kaydence, what in the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed in a whisper, trying not to raise her voice.
He didn't respond. His focus was absolute, his posture steady and controlled. Whatever he was doing, he did it with practiced care—drawing out the lingering toxins the bracelet had forced into her veins, easing the pressure that had been building beneath her skin.
Meisha's initial shock softened into reluctant stillness. She could feel the tension in her arm easing, the burning sensation fading.
Kaydence finally pulled back, his expression serious, his breathing steady.
He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked up at her with a mixture of apology and urgency.
Meisha jerked her wrist back instinctively, cradling it against her chest. Her brows knit together, confusion and irritation flashing across her face.
"Why'd you do that?" she demanded, her voice low and sharp.
Kaydence didn't answer. He simply turned away, walked to the small latrine basin, and spat the darkened toxins into it. The sound was soft, but the implication wasn't—whatever he'd drawn out of her had been real, and dangerous.
He wiped his mouth with a neaby cloth` and walked back toward her, silent and steady.
When he reached for her arm again, Meisha recoiled immediately.
"Hell no, you're not biting me again."
Kaydence let out a low, amused chuckle—warm, but edged with something knowing. "Meisha," he said gently, "look down at your arm."
She hesitated, then slowly lowered her gaze.
Her breath caught.
The dark, branching toxins that had outlined her veins were gone—completely. Even the small puncture marks from his fangs had vanished, the skin smooth and unbroken as if nothing had happened at all.
"What… how did you—?" She looked up at him, eyes wide.
Kaydence only smirked, a quiet confidence settling into his expression. "Now the both of us have things to share when you get back."
He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and turned her gently toward the stairs.
"Now hurry," he urged, guiding her upward. "The forest is waiting."
Meisha swallowed, still shaken, still processing—but she nodded. She tightened her cloak around her shoulders and ascended the steps, her wrist warm, her mind racing, and the weight of new questions pressing against her ribs.
Behind her, Kaydence watched with a look she couldn't see—one filled with concern, certainty, and something deeper he wasn't ready to name.
Meisha slipped through the hidden passageway with practiced ease, pulling the stone panel closed behind her. The narrow tunnel exhaled a cool draft as she stepped into the open air, the estate looming behind her like a sleeping beast she dared not wake.
She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and set off toward the Nykon Forest.
The path was familiar, but today she moved with extra caution. The Duke's arrival had doubled the patrols—guards pacing the grounds with swords swinging at their sides, their boots crunching through the frost‑bitten grass.
Meisha kept out of sight of the patrols, slipping behind hedges, ducking beneath low branches, waiting for the right moment to cross each open stretch. Her heart thudded in her chest, but her steps were silent, her breath controlled.
When she finally reached the tree line on the other side of the river, she exhaled in relief.
The forest welcomed her like an old friend.
Cold air. Soft earth. The faint scent of pine and winter herbs.
She followed the winding path deeper, toward the place where she had first found Kaydence—half‑conscious, wounded, hidden beneath the roots of an ancient tree. The memory tugged at her, but she pushed it aside. She had work to do.
When she reached the clearing, she knelt and opened her satchel, pulling out her small garden tool. The sunlight filtered through the branches, illuminating patches of frost‑kissed herbs scattered near the bases of several trees.
"There are five trees scattered about that I need to check," she murmured to herself, grounding her focus.
She approached the first tree—the one furthest from the estate. Its bark was rough, and the roots curled outward like protective arms. Meisha crouched beside it, brushing aside fallen leaves to reveal the herbs growing in the sheltered soil.
Her fingers moved with practiced precision, plucking only what she needed, placing each sprig carefully into her satchel.
But beneath her calm movements, something else stirred.
A faint hum. A whisper of the same pull she'd felt near the chest.
Not strong enough to hurt. But strong enough to notice.
Meisha paused, her breath catching.
She felt the sense that someone or something was watching her.
Meisha rose from the first tree with a small shake of her head. No markings. No response. Nothing but the faint hum beneath her skin that hadn't faded since she entered the forest.
She moved toward the second tree.
With each step, the pull inside her grew stronger—subtle at first, then unmistakable. A tightening in her chest. A prickle along her forearm. A whisper of awareness that didn't belong to her alone.
Someone—or something—was watching.
She didn't look around. Didn't stiffen. Didn't break her pace.
Instead, she pressed on, giving the impression of a woman focused solely on her task.
The second tree stood tall and wide, its roots bowing out of the ground like the ribs of some ancient creature. Meisha crouched beside it, brushing aside frost‑tipped leaves to reveal clusters of lemon balm growing in the sheltered soil.
She plucked the herbs with practiced ease, placing each sprig into her satchel while her eyes subtly scanned the bark and roots for any sign of a reply.
Nothing at first.
She circled the tree slowly, pretending to search for more herbs. Her fingers brushed the earth, her breath steady, her posture relaxed—though her senses were sharpened to a fine point.
Still nothing.
She exhaled softly and rose to her feet, ready to move on to the third tree—
Until something caught her eye.
A faint carving on one of the massive roots, half‑hidden beneath a curl of moss. Meisha knelt again, brushing the moss aside with careful fingers.
The message was simple, carved with urgency:
Message Received.Go to the third tree.
A small, controlled breath escaped her.
She straightened, adjusted her satchel, and without hesitation, turned toward the third tree.
She didn't look back. She didn't acknowledge the watcher. She simply followed the instructions.
The forest shifted around her as she walked—quiet, expectant, as though holding its breath.
And Meisha pressed deeper into the trees, toward whatever waited for her next.
Meisha moved toward the third tree with the same steady, unhurried pace she'd used at the others. Her hands stayed busy—plucking herbs, brushing aside frost, shifting leaves—every motion deliberate, every gesture meant to signal calm ignorance.
But inside, she was anything but unaware.
Something had changed in her since touching the chest in Varrick's sleeping quarters. Her senses felt stretched open—sharper, wider, attuned to things she'd never noticed before. The forest wasn't just quiet; it was alive around her. Every shift of air, every tremor of branch, every subtle vibration in the earth beneath her boots pulsed through her like a second heartbeat.
And she felt the watcher.
Not just the presence— but the movement.
A soft thud on bark. A whisper of weight shifting. A branch bending ever so slightly.
Whoever followed her was staying high in the trees, moving from limb to limb to keep pace with her. Light. Fast. Skilled.
I really hope this is the lieutenant Kaydence spoke of, she thought, keeping her expression neutral as she crouched near the third tree.
The third tree was enormous—far grander than the first two. Its roots curled out of the ground like the ribs of some ancient beast, thick and moss‑covered. A small hollow opened at the base, dark and deep enough to hide a fox… or a message.
Meisha knelt, pulling her garden tool from her satchel. She scooped gently at the mint growing beneath the roots, the scent rising fresh and sharp in the cold air. Her fingers brushed the earth, searching for the familiar texture of carved bark or etched wood.
Nothing at first.
She circled the tree slowly, keeping her posture relaxed, her movements fluid. The watcher shifted again above her—closer now. She could feel the weight of their gaze like a warm pressure between her shoulder blades.
Still, she didn't look up.
She kept foraging, kept searching, kept pretending.
Her hand brushed a patch of moss near the hollow. Something felt… off. She brushed the moss aside with her fingertips.
There— a faint line. A deliberate stroke. A carving.
Meisha leaned closer, brushing away more moss until the message revealed itself, etched into the thick root curving out of the ground:
Enter the tree.
Her pulse quickened, but her expression didn't change. She didn't allow even a flicker of reaction to show. Instead, she shifted her weight, adjusted her satchel, and resumed foraging as though she had seen nothing at all.
She crouched again, using her small garden tool to scoop up the thyme growing in a tight cluster near the base of the massive roots. Her movements were slow, methodical, unthreatening — the perfect image of a servant gathering herbs, not a woman receiving secret instructions under the eyes of a hidden watcher.
As she circled the tree, she paused for a moment, her gaze drifting past the branches and through a gap in the forest canopy.
From this vantage point, she could see the distant road leading into Duskmere.
And she saw them.
Two carriages — ornate, heavy, unmistakably noble — rolling toward the town gates. Between them marched a wall of soldiers, two hundred strong. A hundred in front. A hundred behind. Their armor glinted in the fading light, their formation tight and disciplined.
The Duke and his proxy had arrived.
Meisha's breath caught. A cold ripple slid down her spine. Their presence meant scrutiny. Questions. Pressure. And Varrick would be on edge — which meant the estate would be, too.
She didn't have much time.
She forced herself to look away, returning her attention to the thyme beneath her hands. She plucked a few more sprigs, tucking them neatly into her satchel. Her posture remained calm, her movements unhurried, as though nothing in the world had changed.
Only when she was certain the watcher above had no reason to suspect her did she shift her steps toward the hollow opening at the base of the tree.
The roots curved upward like the ribs of some ancient creature, forming a natural archway. The hollow was just large enough for her to slip into if she crouched low.
Meisha took one last glance around the forest — not with her eyes, but with her heightened senses. The watcher was still there, perched somewhere above, silent but attentive.
She inhaled slowly.
Then she stepped into the hollow, letting the shadows swallow her.
Meisha lowered herself into the hollow opening, bracing her hands against the cool bark as she crawled forward. The space was tight at first, forcing her to duck her head and pull her satchel close to her body. But after a few feet, the passage widened enough for her to rise.
She stood slowly, brushing dirt from her cloak, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.
The inside of the tree was larger than she expected — a natural chamber carved by time and something older than time. The air was cool, still, carrying the faint scent of moss and earth.
Then she heard it.
A soft scuff. A shift of weight. Someone entering the hollow behind her.
Meisha's breath caught. She pressed herself against the curved inner wall of the tree, moving silently out of the way. Her senses sharpened again — that strange, heightened awareness humming through her veins.
She didn't see anyone.
But she felt them.
A presence slipping into the hollow, careful and deliberate. The faintest brush of air as someone moved past the entrance. A whisper of fabric. A controlled breath.
Then — a shimmer.
The air rippled, like heat rising off stone.
A figure materialized.
They reached up and pulled back an invisibility cloak, the fabric folding into their hands like liquid shadow. Beneath it stood a tall, lean figure dressed in muted forest leathers, posture alert, movements precise.
Without a word, they lifted a hand.
A small orb of light bloomed at their fingertips — soft, pale, and steady — illuminating the hollow from within. The glow revealed the sharp lines of their face, the dark paint beneath their eyes, the insignia stitched into their collar.
Meisha's pulse quickened.
This was no ordinary scout.
This was someone trained. Someone dangerous. Someone who had been watching her every step.
The figure turned toward her, the light casting long shadows across the chamber.
And for the first time, Meisha saw the eyes of the one who had been following her through the trees.
The soft glow from the light spell spread through the hollow, pushing back the darkness just enough for Meisha to see the figure clearly.
She took in the details quickly, quietly — the way someone trained to survive would.
The woman was a demon, gorgeous, tall and slim, her posture straight and alert, but she wasn't taller than Kaydence. Her armor bore the same muted, shadow‑blended colors he wore — forest tones meant for stealth, not intimidation. The leather was reinforced with dark metal plates, each piece fitted with precision.
A scar cut down the left side of her face, thin but unmistakable — exactly where Kaydence had said it would be.
Two curved short swords rested at her hips, their hilts wrapped in dark cloth, the blades sheathed in a way that allowed for silent, lightning‑fast draws.
But what sealed it — what made Meisha's breath catch — was the insignia stitched into the woman's cloak.
A stylized crescent intertwined with a blade.
The mark of the lieutenant Kaydence had spoken of.
Meisha's pulse steadied, though her body remained tense. She didn't move from the wall, didn't speak yet. She simply watched as the lieutenant lowered her cloak, the light spell illuminating the sharp lines of her face.
Meisha's breath steadied as the light settled over the woman's features. The insignia. The scar. The armor. Everything Kaydence had described.
"You're Kaydence's lieutenant," Meisha said, her voice low but certain.
The woman's eyes widened just slightly — not in surprise, but in acknowledgment. Then, with a fluid grace that spoke of discipline and deep respect, she lowered herself to one knee.
The light spell remained steady in her hand, casting a soft glow across the hollow as she bowed her head.
"Thank you for keeping General Kaydence Oren safe," she said, her voice firm yet reverent. "My name is Nichelle Weathers, his lieutenant… and I am indebted to you."
The title — General — struck Meisha with unexpected weight. She had known Kaydence was important, powerful, respected. But hearing it spoken aloud by someone who served under him made the truth settle differently in her chest.
Nichelle remained kneeling, head bowed, waiting — not as a subordinate to Meisha, but as someone offering respect to the person who had protected her commander.
The hollow was silent except for the faint hum of the light spell and the distant whisper of wind through the trees outside.
Meisha wasn't used to being bowed to. She wasn't used to being thanked. And she certainly wasn't used to being treated as someone who mattered to a man like Kaydence.
But here, in the heart of the Nykon Forest, with a lieutenant kneeling before her, she felt the weight of everything shifting.
Meisha stepped forward and gently took Nichelle by the forearm, guiding her up from her kneel.
"There's no need to bow," she said softly. "Helping and healing others is just who I am."
Nichelle rose smoothly to her feet, the light spell still glowing faintly in her hand. Her posture remained disciplined, but there was a subtle shift — a loosening, a quiet respect.
Once Nichelle was fully standing, Meisha tilted her head slightly. "How'd you know it was I who left the messages?"
Nichelle let out a small breath, almost a laugh. "Well… at first, I paid you no mind when I saw you enter the forest and begin collecting herbs."
Meisha, wanting to ease the tension in the hollow, lowered herself to the ground and sat cross‑legged. The gesture was simple, but it softened the air between them.
Nichelle noticed — and after a brief hesitation, she seated herself as well, mirroring Meisha's posture with a soldier's-controlled grace.
She continued, "But then your scent reached me."
Meisha blinked. "My scent?"
"Yes," Nichelle said, unbothered by the interruption. "You carry the scent of the General on you. Strongly. Once I caught it, I began to follow. My apologies if I frightened you."
Meisha waved a hand dismissively. "You're okay. I collect herbs in this forest all the time. So, my guard's up anytime I enter."
Nichelle nodded at Meisha's explanation, her expression thoughtful beneath the soft glow of the light spell.
"It is good that you do," she replied. "Monsters and beasts are sometimes able to get through the Ashen Vale, and they go after nearby farms and towns."
Meisha's brows lifted slightly. She'd heard rumors, whispers from travelers and frightened villagers, but hearing it from someone like Nichelle — someone who lived in the shadows of danger — made it feel heavier, more real.
Nichelle continued, her voice steady but edged with experience. "Most of the time, the Vale holds. But when it doesn't… the creatures that slip through are hungry, desperate, and unpredictable. They follow scent, sound, movement. Anyone unprepared becomes easy prey."
Meisha pulled her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders, not out of fear, but out of understanding. "That explains why the forest feels different some nights."
Nichelle gave a small nod. "Exactly. And why your guard being up is wise."
The lieutenant's gaze softened just a fraction — a subtle shift, but noticeable. "Especially now."
Meisha shifted slightly where she sat, her fingers brushing a stray leaf near her boot. "Are you referring to the disputing territories not under Demon King Burruk's rule?"
Nichelle nodded once. "Yes, that is correct."
Her agreement carried weight — not just confirmation, but the kind that came from someone who had seen the consequences firsthand.
Nichelle continued, her voice steady but edged with concern. "And now, with the tasks of the four Generals shifted to the disputing territories, surveillance of the Ashen Vale is limited."
Meisha's brows furrowed. She knew enough about the Vale to understand what that meant — but hearing it from someone who patrolled its borders made the truth settle deeper.
Nichelle went on, "The Vale is vast. Even with all four Generals, it requires constant watch. But with the unrest in the territories, their forces have been redirected. Fewer patrols. Fewer eyes. More gaps."
Meisha exhaled slowly. "Which means more creatures slipping through."
"Exactly." Nichelle's gaze sharpened. "And more danger for anyone who travels these woods alone."
The hollow tree seemed to grow quieter around them, the weight of the situation settling like a cold mist.
Nichelle's expression softened just a fraction. "That is why your caution is wise. And why the General's safety — and yours — is more important now than ever."
Meisha felt a subtle shift in her chest at that. Not fear. Not yet. But awareness. A sense that the forest, the Vale, the political tension — all of it was tightening around them like a net.
Meisha's gaze drifted toward the hollow's entrance, her thoughts slipping back to that day — the cold earth, the faint glow of sunlight on Kaydence's skin, the way his breath had barely stirred.
"It really is a good thing that I found Kaydence when I did," she murmured, half to herself, forgetting for a moment that she wasn't alone.
Nichelle's head lifted slightly, her sharp eyes narrowing with sudden focus. "When you found him," she said, her voice cutting gently through Meisha's reverie, "what was his condition?"
Meisha didn't soften her words. There was no point in doing so — not with someone who clearly cared for Kaydence as deeply as Nichelle did.
"To be completely honest with you," she said, meeting the lieutenant's eyes, "he was unconscious, bleeding out from the side of his abdomen, and pretty much on the verge of death."
Nichelle froze.
Then, without hesitation, she dropped to her knees, bowing her head all the way to the ground. The light spell flickered but did not go out.
"I am seriously indebted to you," she said, voice low and reverent.
Meisha startled at the sudden gesture, her hands lifting instinctively. "Please stop doing that. It really is just who I am."
Nichelle rose back into a seated position — straight‑backed, composed, every inch the disciplined soldier she was trained to be. But there was a softness in her eyes now, a quiet gratitude that didn't need words.
As Nichelle settled, Meisha noticed a smudge of dirt streaked across the lieutenant's forehead from where she'd bowed. Without thinking, Meisha leaned forward and brushed it away with her thumb.
Nichelle didn't flinch. She didn't pull back. She simply allowed the gesture — a small but telling sign of trust.
When Meisha finished, Nichelle tilted her head slightly. "And may I know who you are?"
Meisha blinked, then let out a breathy laugh. "Goodness gracious. With everything going on, I forgot to introduce myself."
She extended her hand.
"My name is Meisha Emberwynn, daughter of Alyra and Damon Emberwynn."
Nichelle's eyes widened, shock rippling across her face. "You're the daughter of the great healer and ember caster Alyra Emberwynn."
Meisha shrugged lightly. "I don't think there's another woman with that name. So, yes."
Nichelle stared at her for a long moment — not with suspicion, but with dawning understanding. Respect. And something else Meisha couldn't quite place.
Nichelle exhaled slowly, the shock of Meisha's lineage still settling behind her eyes. But then another realization seemed to strike her — one far heavier.
"No wonder he survived," Nichelle murmured, almost to herself.
Meisha's brows knit. "What do you mean?"
Nichelle shifted, leaning forward slightly, her voice dropping into something low and grave. "The strike the assassin pierced him with during the raid was poisoned — a concoction meant to halt his regenerative abilities."
Meisha's breath stilled.
She had known Kaydence was dying when she found him. She had seen the blood, the pallor, the way his breath barely stirred. But she hadn't known why he wasn't healing. She hadn't known that something had been working against him from the inside.
Nichelle continued, her tone edged with a soldier's fury held tightly in check. "It was designed to keep him from recovering. To make sure he bled out before anyone could reach him. Even a demon of his rank would have succumbed."
Meisha felt a cold ripple slide through her chest.
"So when I found him…" she whispered.
"You saved him," Nichelle finished firmly. "Without your intervention, he would have died within the hour."
The hollow fell silent.
Meisha stared at the ground for a moment, the weight of that truth settling into her bones. She had known she helped him — but she hadn't realized she had pulled him back from a death that had been engineered for him.
Nichelle watched her with a softened gaze, the respect in her eyes no longer formal or distant — but deeply personal.
"You did more than heal him," Nichelle said quietly. "You defied a poison crafted to kill a General."
Meisha swallowed, her heart thudding with a mixture of shock and something warmer — something that felt like purpose.
Meisha let Nichelle's words settle for a moment before speaking again.
"So, you caught the assailant."
Nichelle's jaw tightened. "Yes, we have. But he has yet to reveal who sent him and his unit."
There was a cold edge beneath her calm tone — the kind that came from a soldier who had seen too many betrayals and too many fallen comrades. Meisha could tell Nichelle was holding back the deeper frustration, the unanswered questions, the danger still lurking.
Before she could respond, a thought struck her.
"Oh! Before I forget."
She reached for her herb satchel, fingers moving to the hidden seam along the inner lining — the secret compartment Kaydence had shown her. Nichelle watched with quiet curiosity, her posture straightening slightly as Meisha rummaged inside.
Meisha's fingers brushed something cool and familiar.
The medallion.
She curled her hand around it — but then paused.
Something else was tucked beside it. Thin. Crisp. Folded.
"What's this?" she murmured to herself.
She pulled both items out at once — the medallion glinting softly in the dim light, and a small piece of folded parchment resting against her palm.
Nichelle leaned forward, eyes narrowing with interest.
Meisha's heart gave a small, unexpected flutter.
Kaydence had only mentioned the medallion.
He hadn't said anything about a note.
Meisha turned the folded parchment over in her hands, not opening it yet. The handwriting on the front was unmistakably Kaydence's — sharp, deliberate strokes, the kind of script belonging to someone trained to command.
She read the message written across the outer fold:
"Give this note to my lieutenant if you happen to cross paths with her."
Her breath caught for a moment. He had planned for this possibility. He had trusted her with it.
Meisha looked up at Nichelle. "He wants me to give this to you along with the medallion."
Nichelle extended her hand, palm steady, though Meisha could see the tension in her shoulders — the kind that came from fear held tightly in check.
Meisha placed both items into her hand.
Nichelle tucked the medallion into an inner pocket of her cloak with practiced precision, then unfolded the parchment.
The light spell flickered softly as her eyes scanned the contents.
Her expression shifted almost immediately.
First — relief. Then — shock. Then — something darker. Fury. Fear. Duty.
The note detailed everything:
How Meisha had discovered Kaydence bleeding out in the forest. How she had taken him in, healed him, hidden him. How he was safe —her recovering — concealed in Meisha's sleeping quarters beneath the estate. How Meisha was the daughter of the late Alyra Emberwynn. How she was being held captive by Lord Varrick Hennis under the guise of servitude. And finally — the command:
This information must be reported to my father and King Burruk, immediately.
Nichelle's fingers tightened around the parchment.
Her jaw clenched.
Her breath left her in a slow, controlled exhale — the kind soldiers used to keep themselves from exploding.
When she finally looked up at Meisha, her eyes were blazing with a mixture of reverence, anger, and something fiercely protective.
The hollow tree felt suddenly smaller, the air charged with the weight of what Nichelle now knew.
And Meisha understood, in that moment, that everything had just changed.
Nichelle rose abruptly, urgency sharpening every line of her posture. "I must go immediately."
Meisha stood as well, confusion tightening her chest. "Why?"
"I must report back to Kaydence's father at once," Nichelle said, already pulling the invisibility cloak around her shoulders and lifting the hood.
Before she could activate it, Meisha stepped forward. "Wait… hold on."
Nichelle froze. "I'm sorry. I must go."
Meisha shook her head firmly. "You can't leave yet — not until a plan is made to get General Kaydence out of here."
Nichelle's jaw tightened. "General Kaydence wants me to deliver this message with the utmost urgency."
"And this is urgent as well," Meisha countered. "The Duke and his Proxy just arrived in Duskmere. And I don't know if you're aware of this, but Duke Noren and Warren Hennis are highly skilled warriors. If you can sense Kaydence's scent on me, I'm sure they can sense high‑level demons just as easily."
Nichelle's eyes narrowed as she absorbed that. Meisha pressed on.
"And from what little information Kaydence gave me about Varrick… I going to assume his father and brother aren't any better."
Nichelle's silence was confirmation enough.
Meisha continued, "I can use my herbs to mask his scent again — it'll hold for tonight at the latest. But we have to get him out of here by tomorrow night. He needs to finish recovering somewhere safe."
Nichelle weighed her options — and Meisha could see the shift in her eyes. Kaydence was out of commission. That meant Nichelle was in command. And she carried that responsibility like a blade strapped to her spine.
Finally, Nichelle spoke. "This is what we'll do. Keep him hidden for this last night. Mask his scent as needed. I'll report to his father — he's still at the rest point where we were raided — and I'll return before nightfall tomorrow."
Meisha considered the risks. They were steep. But the alternatives were worse.
"I agree," she said. "Keep a lookout for us tomorrow around nightfall."
They nodded to each other — a silent pact sealed in urgency.
A sudden crack of branches outside made them both drop into a crouch.
Nichelle closed her eyes and sent out a pulse — a ripple of awareness that traveled through the forest.
"A grand moose," she whispered. "It crossed the Ashen Vale."
She moved toward the opening. "We need to get you back to the estate. I'll go first under the cloak. I'll knock on the tree when it's safe."
But Meisha didn't answer.
"Meisha, did you—?"
Nichelle turned — and her breath caught.
Meisha was on her knees, writhing, clutching her wrist. The magic suppression bracelet glowed faintly, dark veins spidering up her arm.
"Meisha!" Nichelle hissed, rushing to her side. "What is the matter!?"
The pain was too great for Meisha to speak.
Nichelle lifted the light spell higher — and swore under her breath. "Shit."
She recognized the device instantly. And the toxins.
"Out of all the times I could have been put in charge…" she muttered, panic threading her whisper.
She was about to formulate a new plan when Meisha forced her breathing to slow — remembering Kaydence's instructions from Varrick's office.
"I heard everything you said," Meisha managed through clenched teeth. "And I'll be okay. I need to get back before that beast alerts the guards. Now go."
Nichelle hesitated — but obeyed.
She activated the cloak and slipped out of the tree. A moment later, a soft knock sounded against the bark.
Meisha pushed through the pain and crawled out of the hollow. Nichelle, invisible, stood guard beside her until she was fully outside.
Meisha staggered to her feet, breath labored.
"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Nichelle asked, voice low but fierce. "I saw the toxins leaking into your veins."
"I told you I'll be okay," Meisha groaned. "It happened before. Kaydence pulled the toxins from my arm."
Nichelle didn't argue. "Very well. With the circumstances as they are… I'm entrusting you to make it back in one piece."
"You have my word," Meisha said, bracing herself against the tree.
"And one last thing," Nichelle added.
"What is it?" Meisha asked, urgency sharpening her tone.
"Tell Kaydence…" Nichelle paused, as if weighing the gravity of the words. "Tell him that his father has been tasked with investigating the death of your mother."
"What!?" Meisha spun toward her — but Nichelle was already gone, swallowed by the trees.
The forest felt suddenly colder.
And Meisha stood alone, her wrist burning, her heart pounding, and a truth she never expected echoing in her ears.