In the midst of their tense exchange, something shifted. Despite their differences, Dastan and Farris silently agreed to set aside their quarrels and join forces in the search for Noori.
The banquet hall behind them hummed with laughter and music, its warmth spilling into the snowy back garden. Mounted on their steeds, Dastan and Farris, flanked by a handful of guards, rode through the palace gates, urgency pressing on their shoulders. The night sky stretched above, a web of stars shining coldly, and the chill gnawed at their bones, each breath visible in the frosty air. With every hoofbeat, a knot of apprehension tightened in Dastan's chest, icy tendrils crawling under his skin.
A sudden shout from one of the guards drew their attention. They reined in their horses and followed his gaze to a set of carriage tracks leading away from the palace, veering sharply from the direction of the banquet hall. Dastan's brows knitted together. "Could this be the Princess's carriage?" he wondered aloud.
The guard shook his head. "No carriage would venture into the mountains at night. This is the one she boarded," he reasoned.
Farris's jaw tightened. "Then we follow it. Split up to cover more ground," he commanded, urging his horse forward. Dastan hesitated for a heartbeat before spurring after him.
The darkness thickened around them as they pressed into the forested paths, the blackness swallowing the moonlight. Farris conjured a small globe of light with a flick of his fingers, the soft glow revealing only a narrow swath of winding trail. "Why would the carriage take this path?" he muttered, suspicion threading his voice. "There's no reason for her to be here."
The path soon split, forcing them to halt. Dastan's voice was tight with unease. "What now?"
Farris's gaze hardened. "We take separate paths. It's the only way."
Dastan's reluctance was obvious. "I don't think we should," he said, his tone firm.
"So you have a better idea? Keep in mind we don't have time. And above all, you caused this mess. You have no choice," Farris snapped, his patience fraying.
Dastan's temper flared in response. "Duke, you've grown bitter. I didn't expect this from you."
Farris clenched his jaw but suppressed the rising anger. "This isn't the time for personal grievances. Pick a path," he said coldly, voice stripped of warmth.
With a frustrated roll of his eyes, Dastan chose a path at random and urged his horse forward, vanishing into the shadows. Farris watched him disappear, tension coiling in his chest, before turning to his own trail, eyes scanning every flicker of movement in the darkness.
The winding path ahead seemed to stretch endlessly, the trees casting twisted shadows in the faint light of Farris's orb. His thoughts churned, uneasy and restless. "What could have happened?" he murmured, scanning the snow-strewn ground and the faint, scattered impressions left by the carriage.
-
In the midst of their tense exchange, something shifted. Despite their differences, Dastan and Farris found themselves silently agreeing to set aside their quarrels and join forces in the search for Noori.
Inside the banquet hall, laughter and music filled the air, spilling out into the tranquil back garden. Mounted on their steeds, Dastan and Farris, accompanied by a handful of guards, rode out through the palace gates, determined to unravel the mystery of Noori's disappearance. The night sky stretched overhead, clear and star-studded, yet the cold gnawed at their bones, a persistent reminder of the urgency of their mission. With each hoofbeat, Dastan felt the icy tendrils of apprehension tighten around his heart, a chilling sensation that seemed to grow with every passing moment.
As they approached the palace, a sudden call from one of the guards drew their attention. They reined in their horses and turned to see the tracks of a carriage wheel leading away from the palace, heading in the opposite direction of the banquet hall. Dastan's brow furrowed in concern as he surveyed the tracks. "Could this be the Princess's carriage?" he pondered aloud.
The guard shook his head. "No carriage would venture towards the mountains at night. It must be the one the Princess boarded," he reasoned.
Farris nodded in agreement and swiftly directed his horse towards the trail left by the carriage. "I'll go this way. Split up so we can find her quickly," he commanded, urging his horse forward. Without hesitation, Dastan followed closely behind.
As they marched forth, the darkness along the path seemed to deepen, enveloping them in its ominous embrace. Farris conjured a globe of light with a few flickers of his fingers, illuminating their path as they followed it deeper into the unknown. "Why did the carriage go this way in the first place?" Farris muttered, his voice laced with suspicion. "There's no reason for her to venture into these parts of the palace."
His frown deepened with each step they took, and as the path split before them, they came to a halt once more. "What now?" Dastan asked, his voice tense with uncertainty.
"We'll have to take different paths," Farris declared, his tone resolute. But Dastan's reluctance was palpable, and he voiced his dissent. "I don't think we should do that," he replied, his tone firm.
Farris's brow furrowed in response. "So you have a better plan? Keep in mind, we don't have time, and above all, you are the reason behind this problem, so you have no choice," he retorted stiffly, his patience wearing thin.
"Duke, you've grown bitter. I didn't expect you to be like this," Dastan countered, his words tinged with reproach.
Farris's jaw clenched at the accusation, but he pushed aside the brewing tension. "This is not the time for personal grievances. Choose a path," he ordered, his voice devoid of warmth.
Dastan rolled his eyes at Farris's insistence and quickly glanced at the paths before randomly choosing one to follow. Without further ado, he urged his horse forward, disappearing into the distance along his chosen route. Left with the other path, Farris watched Dastan's figure recede into the darkness before turning his attention back to his own path, determined to trace any signs of the missing carriage.
As he rode along the winding trail, Farris couldn't shake off his confusion. "What could have happened?" he mused aloud, his voice carrying in the still night air. He scanned the path intently, searching for any clues that might shed light on the situation.
............…
Noori's eyes widened in terror as she found herself in a wide, eerie space filled with people
Noori stirred, her eyes fluttering open to darkness and shadows, the shapes around her blurred and shifting. She was dressed in unfamiliar garments, rough and ill-fitting, the surroundings resembling a makeshift camp. But the dim light and the indistinct forms around her only deepened her unease. Figures moved in silence, clad in flowing black robes and wearing white masks with hollow eyeholes, their presence eerily unnatural—like spirits pulled from nightmares.
Panic surged as she realized the truth: her hands and feet were chained, heavy metal biting into her skin, leaving her immobile. The gag stuffed into her mouth stifled any scream, muffling her cries into mere choking noises. Her pulse thundered in her ears as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She strained against the shackles, tugging with all her strength, but the chains held firm.
One of the masked figures stepped closer, and the cold realization that she was being watched made her blood run ice-cold. Their eyes—unseen behind the mask—fixed on her with a chilling intent.
"She is awake. We must begin the ritual," the figure intoned, voice low and deliberate, sending a shiver down Noori's spine.
Her muffled protests were useless; the cloth in her mouth swallowed her voice. Frantic, she twisted her body, searching for any weakness in her restraints, every movement sharp and desperate. Her muscles screamed in protest as the chains cut into her skin, but escape seemed impossible.
The three masked figures advanced in unison, deliberate steps echoing softly in the straw-laden chamber. From one, a sleek dagger glinted faintly, adorned with intricate gems that caught the meager light and reflected it like shards of frozen fire. A distant, low chant rose, each syllable echoing in the shadows, amplifying her terror.
The dagger was raised, poised above her chest. Noori's heart raced as terror clawed at her chest; every instinct screamed to fight, but her strength was no match for the masked figures.
Then, in an instant, a sudden flash of light reflected off the blade. Noori's eyes widened, body jerking violently, as a shock of clarity surged through her. She gasped, the gag no longer restraining her, and realized with growing disbelief that her hands were free. Chains that had bound her so tightly now lay slack at her sides.
Sweat-matted hair clung to her face as she scrambled to her feet, taking in the dimly lit chamber. Straw covered the floor, the walls roughly constructed, and the lingering shadow of the masked figures made her skin prickle. She swallowed a ragged breath, trembling but alive, aware that she had been granted a narrow, surreal escape from the nightmare she had only just left.
"Haah! Haah!" Noori's breaths came in ragged bursts, her gaze fixed on the hut with a mixture of anger and suspicion. The flood of memories clawing at her mind left her drained, her resolve fraying under the weight of the dim light.
Her eyes drifted to a rough table nearby—a scatter of bandages, a bowl of murky water, and a used cloth. Frowning, she studied the bandages wrapped around her arm, covering a burn wound smeared with a strange ointment. "Who… did this?" she murmured, her voice tight with confusion as she examined the makeshift care, recalling the reckless leap off the carriage that had left her hurt.
A delicate voice rang sharply through the air, jolting her from her thoughts. "Stop! You'll ruin the stitches!"
Noori's gaze snapped to the doorway. A girl, no older than fifteen, had pushed aside the tattered cloth curtain. Her features were delicate but firm, her small frame belying the confidence in her step. She carried a heavy basket, yet moved with surprising grace.
Without hesitation, the girl crossed the hut and slapped away Noori's hand from the bandaged arm. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to sew that up? I'm not doing it again, so don't mess it up!" Her voice trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the urgency of her care.
Noori stared, stunned into silence. The girl's sharp tone softened slightly as she searched Noori's eyes. "Okay?" she pressed, her gaze insistently probing.
Noori nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes."
Relief flickered across the girl's face, her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled. "Much better," she said, turning back to her basket. "By the way… what were you doing out on the rocks all alone back there?" she asked, lifting a surprisingly large fish from the woven basket with effortless ease.
Noori blinked, momentarily distracted by the girl's skill. "I… I don't know," she admitted, uncertainty creeping into her voice.
"You don't know? Gosh! Did you lose your memory or something?!" The girl spun dramatically, hands on her hips, her expression mixing horror and exasperation.
Noori's heart thumped, unease prickling along her spine. This girl was fearless, straightforward… and somehow, despite her small frame, entirely unafraid of her.