They ran for their lives through halls that no longer felt like part of a palace but like the lungs of some enormous beast choking on its own excess. Smoke rolled along the ceilings and sank toward the floor in lazy, suffocating waves, turning chandeliers into blurred constellations and tapestries into ghostly silhouettes. Oscar kept his grip tight around Stephanie's hand, guiding her by instinct more than sight, trusting memory and momentum to carry them forward while the world dissolved into coughing echoes and muffled alarms.
Stephanie struggled to keep pace.
Her heels clicked uselessly against marble already slick with condensation, her gown catching on corners and furniture as though the night itself were conspiring to drag her back. Her breathing grew ragged, panic threading through exhaustion, until suddenly her fingers slipped free from Oscar's grasp and she stopped short.
Oscar spun around instantly, urgency flaring bright in his yellow eyes as he stepped back toward her, already half-expecting armored silhouettes to burst from the smoke behind them.
"Stephanie," he said, voice tight. "What happened? Why did you stop?"
She bent forward, hands braced on her knees, chest heaving as she sucked in air that tasted faintly sweet and undeniably wrong. "I can't," she gasped, frustration bleeding through every syllable. "These stupid shoes are going to get me killed."
Before he could respond, she straightened and kicked one heel free, then the other, abandoning them on the palace floor without a second glance. The hem of her dress followed a heartbeat later as she tore the fabric upward with shaking hands, silk ripping loudly in the smoke-choked corridor. The sound felt scandalous and liberating all at once. When she stood again, the gown was shortened enough to free her legs, the damage uneven but practical, and her long braid swung heavily against her back, golden strands catching what little light remained like a severed banner of royalty.
Oscar stared at her for a fraction of a second, something fierce and approving flickering across his gaze. "That works," he said simply, then reached for her hand again.
They ran.
Their footsteps echoed down branching corridors as they cut left, then right, then left again, smoke thinning slightly as they descended toward the outer reaches of the palace. Stephanie found her stride without the heels, bare feet slapping against cold stone, adrenaline carrying her when stamina threatened to fail. Even so, questions pressed at her mind harder than the burn in her lungs, and she voiced them between breaths.
"Oscar," she said, glancing sideways at him as they rounded another corner. "Where do we go after this? What happens once we're out?"
He did not answer immediately, jaw tightening as he weighed truth against reassurance. "First," he said at last, "we get out of San Cordellion. Tonight turns this place inside out, and by morning every gate will be watched."
"And after that," she pressed, needing something solid to hold onto beyond the chaos.
"After that, we leave Colorada'Sierra altogether," Oscar replied, voice low but steady. "Tri-Crown Isle has three crowns for a reason, and the other two don't love this kingdom nearly enough to rush to its aid."
As they ran, he spoke quickly, the words forming a rough map in the air between them. To the west lay Lonecairn Dominion, a land of vast plains and blistering sun, where cities sprawled low and wide and the people valued strength, grit, and profit above all else. Its ruler, King Halvard Lonecairn, was a man who wore his crown like a rancher's hat, governing with blunt force pragmatism and an open disdain for palace games. To the northeast rose Eboren Concord, a dense vertical kingdom of stone towers and iron bridges, loud with commerce and ambition, ruled by Queen Marrowayne Eboren, whose power flowed through trade guilds, financial houses, and an underworld that functioned as efficiently as any ministry.
"Both have black markets," Oscar added. "Both know how to mind their own business when coin is involved."
Stephanie let out a strained laugh that edged dangerously close to hysteria. "So we run across the Isle, hide among criminals, and hope nobody decides we're worth selling out," she said. "That's… reassuring."
"It's survival," he replied without sugarcoating it. "And it buys time."
Her laughter faded into a tight, nervous smile as the weight of it all settled on her shoulders. "And the Thornveil Syndicate," she said quietly. "You mentioned them before."
Oscar nodded grimly as they took another turn, smoke curling behind them like a living pursuit. "They will recover from tonight," he said. "And when they do, they will look for whoever embarrassed them this badly. That means us. Which is why we lay low, even once we cross borders."
She shook her head as if trying to dislodge the future he had just painted. "I thought tonight was the hard part," she admitted.
"It was," he said. "It just wasn't the last one."
They ran on, the palace gradually giving way to wider corridors and colder air, and it was then that Stephanie asked the question that had been forming since the moment they fled the gala.
"So what is the actual plan," she demanded, breath hitching as they slowed just enough to turn sharply down another passage. "How do we get out of the palace and past the city walls?"
Oscar's eyes glinted in the dim light, something sharp and calculating sparking behind them. "Follow me," he said, veering into a narrower corridor that sloped downward. "I came here with more than one way out."
Behind them, Commander Cedric Highgarden pushed forward through the haze.
The smoke gnawed at his lungs and dulled his reflexes, but discipline carried him onward when instinct threatened to falter. He moved with grim efficiency, boots striking stone in a steady rhythm as his mind raced through possibilities. Whoever was responsible had knowledge of the palace, of its rhythms and blind spots, and that realization chilled him more than the smoke ever could.
He skidded to a halt as something caught his eye on the floor.
A pair of abandoned heels lay near the wall, one cracked at the sole, the other smeared with ash. Nearby, a torn strip of silk clung to a sconce like a flag of surrender. Cedric knelt, fingers brushing the fabric as recognition hardened into resolve. He rose without hesitation and continued the pursuit, jaw clenched tight enough to ache.
Outside, the night noticed.
Male adventurers stationed in the courtyard had begun to murmur among themselves as smoke spilled from high windows and curled into the open air, illuminated by torchlight and moon glow alike. One leaned on his spear, squinting upward.
"That doesn't look ceremonial," he muttered.
"No," another replied, craning his neck. "And I don't remember smoke being on the invitation."
"Think something's gone wrong inside," a third asked, unease creeping into his voice.
"Inside always goes wrong," came the answer. "Question is how wrong."
Their speculation cut short as the smoke thickened, rolling out of the palace in earnest now, a dark exhale that climbed toward the stars. Then the great doors burst open.
Two figures emerged at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against the haze as fresh smoke poured into the night. Stephanie doubled over, hands on her knees, dragging in lungfuls of clean air as though it might be her last. Oscar hovered close, eyes scanning the courtyard with quick, practiced movements.
"Come on," he urged softly. "We're almost there."
"Give me a second," she replied hoarsely, straightening with effort. "I am painfully out of shape, and whatever that smoke was is trying to kill me."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth beneath the mask. "Personal OG strain," he said lightly. "Potent stuff."
She barked out a weak laugh, shaking her head as she took another breath of night air. They turned toward the stairs together.
Steel sang.
Commander Cedric burst from the smoke with lethal speed, a short bastard sword flashing as it cut through the air toward Oscar's chest. Instinct screamed, and Oscar twisted at the last possible instant. The blade missed his heart by inches, carving deep into his shoulder instead, pain detonating through him as blood soaked into dark fabric.
The force of the strike sent him tumbling down the stone steps in a helpless sprawl, the world spinning as he fought to stay conscious.
Stephanie screamed, the sound tearing from her throat as she lunged toward him.
Oscar lay at the base of the stairs, breath ragged, vision blurring, while above them Cedric stood with his sword dripping red, eyes locked on Stephanie as the night held its breath, waiting for what would happen next.