A sharp gasp escaped Naritsa's lips as her eyes fell upon Jasmin's motionless form, his back resting against the charred remains of the ruined tavern. The flickering embers from distant fires cast a faint orange glow on his dark skin, his body eerily still, his breaths—if there were any—too faint to see.
Beside him, Daryl and Laria knelt in broken despair, their tear-streaked faces glistening beneath the cold night sky. Their sobs filled the air, raw and unrestrained, an unbearable contrast to the chaos that had unfolded mere moments ago.
To his right, Nebula had already approached, his sharp eyes scanning for any lingering traces of life. But his expression remained grim—his hands, usually steady on the trigger, now trembled ever so slightly.
Then, his voice—low, urgent, yet laced with something deeper—desperation.
"Naritsa."
She jolted at his call.
"Please… do something. We're losing him."
For the briefest of moments, she felt herself freeze.
The mighty Guardian Vessel, the warrior princess who had withstood the flames of battle, was now paralyzed by fear.
She had seen countless fallen warriors, countless lifeless bodies in the wake of war. But this? This was Jasmin. A trusted comrade. A friend.
She refused to let him die.
Pushing the horror aside, she surged forward, kneeling beside Jasmin in a blur of movement. Her hands flared with radiant white light as she called upon her unicorn guardian, Lila.
A magnificent glow pulsed from her palms, its warmth enveloping Jasmin's broken form. The power of healing flooded into him, coursing through his veins, sealing every wound in an instant.
The bullet lodged within his chest dislodged itself, rolling free with a wet, sickening sound. Blood dripped in delicate rivulets, then—vanished.
And yet—
Nothing.
Jasmin did not stir.
Naritsa's breath hitched.
Her hands hovered over him, trembling, her mind racing. Why wasn't he waking up? His body was whole again, his injuries erased as if they had never been. And yet—his chest remained still.
She pressed two fingers to his throat, feeling for a pulse.
Still nothing.
A sickening dread crept into her veins.
Her heart stopped.
"Impossible." The word left her in a whisper, barely audible over the night breeze. "We lost him."
Daryl's tear-choked voice snapped through the silence.
"What…? No. No, it can't be. He was breathing moments ago!"
Naritsa forced herself to meet his gaze, her own vision blurred by the unbearable weight of grief.
"He must have lost too much blood before I intervened…" She exhaled shakily, her expression veiled in sorrow as the final shred of hope faded into the darkness.
"I'm sorry, everyone… his soul is already long gone."
The world shattered.
Daryl's scream of anguish pierced the night, his shoulders wracked with uncontrollable sobs.
Laria, usually composed, collapsed into despair, her wails barely coherent through the ache twisting in her chest. She lowered her head, tears slipping down her face as she gently pressed a trembling hand against Jasmin's cheek.
Naritsa's hands clenched into fists, her body shaking—not just from sorrow, but from powerlessness. She had commanded flames that could burn the sky, guardians that could break mountains… and yet, she had failed to save one life.
For Nebula…
He did not speak. He did not weep.
Instead, he simply cast his gaze downward. His hands curled into tight fists, nails biting into his palms. His face was unreadable, his expression casted in shadow.
The silence around him was deafening.
No words could describe the storm brewing inside him. A storm that would soon be unleashed.
A heavy silence settled over the ruined surroundings, broken only by the flickering embers of dying flames and the distant howls of the wind. The weight of Jasmin's passing loomed over them like an unshakable shadow.
Then, a voice—measured yet laced with genuine condolence—pierced through the grief.
"I am sorry for your loss."
Jade Commander Atrios stepped forward, his voice laced with quiet condolence. His gaze lingered on Jasmin's lifeless form before shifting to the mourning warriors before him. Though his expression was stern, a shadow of empathy flickered behind his battle-worn eyes.
"He seemed like a valuable ally to you all."
Naritsa exhaled shakily, her sorrow buried beneath a veil of royal composure. She refused to meet his gaze—or that of her soldiers.
"He was an honorable man," she replied, her voice soft yet unwavering.
Atrios gave a slow nod, allowing the weight of her words to settle before continuing.
"Your Highness," he began, stepping closer. "The Jade Fortress craves your return." His tone, though respectful, carried a quiet urgency. "And your sister—Her Royal Majesty—has been restless since learning of the bounty placed upon you. She wishes to see you, to know that you are safe."
At those words, Nebula's brow twitched ever so slightly.
He cast a sideways glance at Naritsa, intrigued by this revelation.
She has a sister?
And not just any sister—a ruling queen?
The gunslinger remained silent, filing away this unexpected piece of knowledge.
Naritsa, however, remained unmoved.
Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her ruby gaze fixed on the distant horizon. Then, after a pause, she spoke with quiet finality.
"I'm not ready to return, Commander Atrios." Her voice was steady, resolute. "My sister can wait."
A flicker of frustration crossed Atrios' face, but the worry in his gaze deepened.
"Your Highness…" His voice softened, though urgency still tinged its edges. "It is imperative for your safety. The empire's eyes are everywhere and the world beyond the Jade Fortress is no longer secure for you. The longer you remain out here, the greater the danger becomes."
Naritsa's gaze flickered, but she did not back down. Instead, she raised her chin slightly, her stance unwavering.
"And what of my companions?" she asked, her voice quieter now, but no less resolute. "I will not abandon them."
Atrios hesitated. His lips parted as if to answer, but then, as if weighed down by duty, he cast his gaze downward.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness," he said at last, his tone low, almost apologetic. "Though we are sworn to protect you, our orders do not extend to your companions. Not without Her Majesty's approval."
The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air.
Naritsa clenched her jaw, her hands tightening into fists at her sides.
The choice before her was clear.
Her throne. Her safety. Her sister's protection.
Or…
The ones who had fought beside her. Bled beside her. The ones who had just lost a friend.
The wind whispered through the ruins, carrying the weight of her decision into the uncertain night.
Naritsa's lips parted, a desperate protest rising in her throat— but before she could speak, Nebula cut in.
"They're right, Naritsa."
His voice was eerily calm, but his expression was unreadable, like a man who had already made peace with an unspoken burden. His piercing grey eyes met hers, firm yet filled with something deep—something almost painful.
"Harboring common fugitives like me and Daryl would spell disaster for any kingdom that shelters us. The Gog Empire wouldn't hesitate to burn your homeland to the ground. Your people would suffer… all because of us."
The princess' eyes widened in defiance.
"No!" she choked, shaking her head violently in refusal. "I can find a way… No, I will find a way!"
Desperation laced her trembling voice as she grasped his arm tightly, as if anchoring herself to him. Her ruby eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, searched his face for even the slightest sign of agreement.
But Nebula only offered a sad, knowing smile.
"No, princess," he murmured, lifting a calloused hand to the side of her beautiful, grief-stricken face. His thumb brushed against her cheek, lingering for a fleeting moment as if trying to memorize every detail before it was too late.
"... There's nothing that can be done about it."
A heavy silence loomed—the quiet before a storm of sorrow.
Then, suddenly, a flicker of ideas sparked in Nebula's eyes. His gaze sharpened, his mind racing with an idea.
"However…" he mused, turning away as he withdrew his hand from her face, his long grey coat rippling in the cold night air. "Hope isn't lost."
Naritsa blinked through her tears, confused.
"What do you mean?"
Nebula exhaled, his back still turned to her.
"A temporary separation." His words were steady, deliberate. "Daryl and I will continue traveling the lands, but we won't be running anymore. We'll be seeking out more fugitives—outcasts, rebels, those who bear the scars of the empire's cruelty."
He turned back to face her, his gaze resolute, filled with unspoken conviction.
"Your duty lies elsewhere, princess. With your status, you and Laria can do what we cannot—rally the kingdoms to our cause. The rebellion will need more than just scattered fighters. We need power, alliances… a war council strong enough to challenge the Gog Empire itself."
Naritsa's breath hitched, her mind stormed by a flood of emotion.
And before she could stop herself, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his body, holding onto him as if letting go would shatter her completely.
"Please…" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, muffled against his chest. "Please don't die before our next reunion."
For a moment, Nebula didn't move.
Then slowly, his right arm wrapped securely around her waist, keeping her close. His other hand gently cradled the back of her head, his touch firm yet tender, grounding her in his warmth.
"I have no plans of dying." His voice was softer now, almost teasing—but laced with a sincerity that made her chest tighten.
Then, with the gentlest touch, he placed a kiss on her forehead.
"We'll be back together in no time."
Slowly, he stepped back, breaking the embrace. Naritsa's hands trembled at the loss of warmth, but she forced herself to be strong.
Nebula turned his gaze elsewhere, locking onto Jasmin's lifeless form.
His expression darkened, his voice heavy, yet filled with respect. "We have to give him a proper burial."
A voice chimed in from behind.
"You can leave that to us."
Nebula turned to see Commander Atrios, his stance unwavering.
But Nebula frowned. "He was a fugitive," he countered, skeptical.
Atrios only gave a slight, knowing smile. "A dead fugitive holds no weight in the affairs of the living." His voice was calm, yet firm. "Do not worry. He will be honored. His body will be taken to the Jade Fortress, where he will receive the burial of a warrior."
The wind howled through the ruined battlefield, carrying away the last whispers of farewell.
Two Jade soldiers moved with measured care, lifting Jasmin's lifeless body. They placed him gently inside a royal carriage, its polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the stars above. His final journey would not be one of disgrace—but of honor.
Nearby, another carriage awaited. Naritsa and Laria stepped forward, their figures shrouded in quiet sorrow as they were ushered inside. But just before the door closed, Naritsa turned—one last time.
Her ruby eyes, gleaming in the pale moonlight, sought him out.
Nebula.
In those crimson depths, a storm of emotions swirled. Grief. Sadness. Desire. A great, aching longing.
She didn't speak. She didn't have to.
The gunslinger understood.
He saw the unspoken words that trembled behind her lips, the silent longing in her gaze—a desire to stay together, to fight together, to defy fate itself. But the weight of duty had already driven a wedge between them.
So he did the only thing he could.
He buried his own turmoil beneath a calm, knowing smile.
And with a slow, measured motion, he raised a hand and waved.
Naritsa hesitated, gripping the edge of the carriage for a moment longer—but then the doors closed, sealing away the sight of her forever.
The carriages rolled forward, their wheels crunching over debris and bloodstained dirt, carrying the princess and her people toward the distant horizon.
Nebula and Daryl remained.
They stood still, watching in silence as the glow of torchlights and the clanking armor of the retreating Jade soldiers faded into the night. The air grew heavy with finality.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, Daryl finally broke the quiet.
His voice was weak, still raw from sobbing. "How do we begin?"
Nebula didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gazed into the vast, looming darkness before them—the land stretching endlessly, wild and untamed, like an abyss waiting to consume them whole. The wind howled low, whispering secrets of the unknown.
He exhaled deeply, running a gloved hand through his dark curls before responding. "I'm not really sure…" He admitted, his voice laced with quiet contemplation. "How about we head to some wastelands and hope to run into some fugitives?"
Daryl wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, his voice steadier now. "If that's the case… the Shadow Wasteland would be a good choice."
Nebula raised an eyebrow in the boy's direction, his eyes gleaming with interest.
"It's dangerous," Daryl continued, his tone oddly calm. "A haven for cutthroats and bounty hunters. But also home to some of the most capable fugitives alive. If we're looking for allies—people who hate the Gog Empire just as much as we do… we'll find them there."
For the first time in hours, Nebula let out a genuine smirk.
He reached out, ruffling the boy's messy blonde hair before pulling away. "Look at you, already thinking like a strategist. Sometimes, I wonder if you're really a child."
Then, without hesitation, he lifted the laser rifle, holstering it in a firm grip beside his head. The steel glinted under the pale moonlight, a symbol of battles yet to come.
"Then to the Shadow Wasteland it is."
And with that, the two lone fugitives turned their backs to the past, stepping into the uncertain future that awaited them beyond the darkness.
******
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TO BE CONTINUED….