The forest of the Forbidden Valley rose around them like a wall of stone and shadow. Mist clung to twisted roots and wound through jagged rocks, coiling low to the ground like something alive. A chill hung in the air—sharp enough that Selene shivered despite her pale skin, breath fogging faintly as she exhaled. The horses' hooves sank into damp earth, soft moss swallowing their steps until even the sound of arrival felt unwelcome.
It was a place that did not want witnesses.
Lyra dismounted first. Muscles screamed in protest; blood and sweat burned her tongue with every breath. Her cheek throbbed where the King's guard had struck her in the throne room—a sharp, humiliating reminder that even battlefield legends could bleed, could falter, could be touched.
Selene slid down after her without hesitation and immediately knelt. Her silver-green eyes glowed faintly as she brushed her fingers across the burn, expression focused, reverent.
"Hold still," she murmured.
A gentle warmth spread beneath her touch. Blistered skin eased, redness fading until only a faint mark remained. Lyra let out a slow breath—unguarded in a way almost none of them ever saw.
"Feels less like death," Lyra muttered, a dry smirk tugging at her lips, "and more like a kiss."
Rory scrambled down from his mount, fiery hair clinging damply to his forehead. He glanced back toward the mist-choked tree line, half expecting torches to burst through at any moment.
"They're not chasing us?"
Shawn snorted as he tightened a strap on his shield. "No one's crazy enough to enter here." His glare flicked briefly toward Lyra—half accusation, half reluctant respect. "Not unless they want to disappear."
Elise dismounted more slowly, scanning the forest with practiced eyes. "This is the Forbidden Valley, Rory."
Rory swallowed. "Why is it called that?"
The mist devoured distant shapes, turning the forest into shifting corridors with no clear end—paths that seemed to rearrange themselves when you weren't looking.
Elise hesitated, then spoke quietly. "There are rumors. Stories people tell to keep others away."
"Stories?" Rory echoed.
"They say the Valley drives people mad," Elise continued. "That it twists your thoughts. Some say it's haunted."
"Haun-ted?" Rory whispered, eyes darting left and right. "Like… ghosts?"
"I don't know what lives here," Elise said honestly. "But survivors talk about sounds. Whispers. Sometimes a melody." Her voice dropped. "They say if you hear it, you grow drowsy. Like something is calling you to sleep."
"And," Shawn added grimly, "there are insects bigger than men. Poisonous ones."
"Insects?" Rory's eyes widened in horror.
Lyra finally spoke.
"Because it tests you," she said, voice steady but low. "It doesn't care about swords or shields. It finds the fear inside you. The doubt. The things you bury and pretend don't exist." A pause. "Only those who endure leave it unbroken. That's what they say."
She crouched beside Rory, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder, grounding him.
"It shows what matters most," she continued. "Your courage. Your heart. Not how well you fight—but what you carry inside."
Behind them, Shawn and Elise worked efficiently, checking horses and ration packs, choosing a small clearing where the mist thinned just enough to breathe. Captain Rita would have approved the positioning—defensible, hidden, quiet. But Rita was nowhere near, and they were on their own now.
That knowledge settled on Lyra heavier than armor.
She sank to the forest floor at last. Weariness tugged at her posture, at the iron discipline holding her upright, but she didn't complain. Selene knelt beside her again, brushing damp hair away from Lyra's brow with unexpected tenderness.
"You've carried too much," Selene whispered. "Not just today. Not just the palace. You carry all of it."
"I know." The admission came low and strange on Lyra's tongue—vulnerability she rarely allowed herself. "But I have to. For all of you."
Rory wandered toward a thin stream cutting through the moss. He cupped water in his hands, watching droplets slip through his fingers, vanish into the earth.
"It's… quiet here."
"That's the valley," Shawn said, settling nearby with his sword resting across his knees. "Quiet comes before the test. Don't let it fool you."
Selene joined Rory, kneeling beside him. "You've faced more than most children," she said gently. "Remember what Lyra taught you—courage isn't the absence of fear. It's moving forward anyway."
Rory swallowed hard. "Even here?"
Selene met his eyes. "Especially here."
Twilight thickened into night. They built a small fire; flames licked against stone and cast restless shadows along crooked tree trunks that seemed to lean closer when no one watched. Rory pressed close to Elise, who kept a steady, protective hand on his shoulder. Selene moved among them with quiet purpose, hands glowing faintly as she healed cuts and bruises, easing ache after ache.
When she returned to Lyra, she placed her palm over the last faint mark on her cheek. Warmth bloomed again—relief, release. Lyra angled her head slightly toward her, a flicker of softness slipping through the armor she wore even in rest.
"I'd call that a good job," Lyra said.
Selene smiled—small, shy, proud. "I do what I must."
Shawn huffed, lips twitching. "Sounds like a charming place for a night's rest."
"Rest while you can," Lyra replied, rising with a soldier's practiced grace despite exhaustion. "Tomorrow, the valley tests us all."
The fire crackled. Mist curled through the clearing like cautious fingers. And beyond the veil of trees, hooded figures lingered—star-shaped insignias catching stray embers of light. They did not step forward, yet their presence pressed in, silent and predatory.
"Why don't we pursue?" one hissed, frustration sharp in his voice.
Another shook his head. "We've entered a few times before. We know the cost."
Their leader lifted a gloved hand, studying the small stone embedded in his palm. Its once-bright center was now clouding to black. His voice was grave.
"We cannot survive. We must re-energize the stones. Besides, there's only one place after the valley."
Reluctant nods followed. Without another word, they melted back into shadow—predators who had learned that survival was a must and patience was deadlier.
The valley remained still.
Watchful.
Listening.
Within it, Lyra, Selene, Rory, Shawn, and Elise felt unseen eyes resting upon them. The night was quiet—too quiet—and the threat did not rush.
It waited.
Patient.
Unyielding.
Until the valley and its intruders finally met.