𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐘

Chapter-10

Thunder rumbled above in swells.

Arlane was cautious with her arrows. The saltiness of her tears dried on her colour ridden cheeks. Only if she weren't callous enough. Only if she had been cautious of her heart falling for Hejaz.

Should she took another man to the lakes was he to bleed red too? Arlane couldn't separate the threads interwoven with the hurt simmering beneath the swell of her cold. Guilt, so much guilt—she couldn't leave her parents to defend her. A plan started morphing in her head even when trembling legs took her far far away from her home, and her eyes rimmed bloodshot.

Not once Arlane hesitated to defend, but only aimed to halt the sentries catching up on her instead of landing a fatal strike.

She wasn't acquainted with the stemming cautiousness when shots of adrenaline passed through her, switching her brain to fight and flight mode. They would kill her right away the second she misstepped. She knew these people who adored and praised her had claimed their sides.

Yet—yet Arlane was not them. She wouldn't entreat as low as them. She once quipped with them, spent her nights tending them—she would rather not deprive sons and daughters of the tribe from their fathers. She had enough deaths on her shoulders to account for.

Sprinting in red silk shoes and sporting one of the most stunning dresses embedded in stones trailing behind her proved to ache as much as this journey. But time was slipping from her reach.

The prospect of her head hanging in the middle of their streets dived too close to reality, and she was scared. Arlane was so scared of her parents witnessing her own death. It will either kill them or shatter them to the extent Arlane was better off dead.

Help. She had to call for help. With the sharp tip of an arrow she cut a piece of Amber belt wrapped around her waist and folded it on the shaft. Turning her torso half backwards still running forward, she aimed in the south-west direction of brawny mountains. Where the entirety of her Pare's legion was situated.

The Lake of Yeelen was situated below the Northern Belt. It's location if anything gave advantage to Hejaz's father. His name—even his name hurt. No. Not now. She had her family to protect. Only if someone detected her arrow.

She threw another arrow behind, farther now. The next arrow was aimed downwards, straight at a sentry closing in on Lydia. Another arrow towards a burly man heading for her Moteh from backwards. The slopes of North Mountains gave her a catastrophic view of war. It ripped her. Seeing her tribe flay each another like time and memories together held no value. Like weeds they were pulled, like dry grass they were burnt.

Her steps took her farther, and farther to her Nuan. She would know what to do. Arlane was not fleeing only to leave her friends and parents lay their lives for her. She just had to reach Nuan—just another slope.

Arlane's limbs burnt with exhaustion, yet her motions didn't falter. Too much was on line for her to tire out. Faster and faster her arrows zipped through air. Faster and faster her feet moved. Just there—almost th—

Suddenly, Arlane tripped and fell harshly. She prepared herself from rolling down the slope, but something held her back. Turning around she saw an arrow pierced the edge of her gown buried deep into soil.

"Arlane," a familiar masculine voice reached her ears. Long frizzy blonde hair crashed against the face of Meredus. Relief flooded her veins at his presence before it dissipated like gush of air was blown over a lit matchstick leaving it dark and useless.

Something in the way he spoke her name. His loving eyes were replaced with shrouded insanity. His mouth didn't slip into a playful smirk anymore. Arlane wasn't staring at her best friend. No, she was staring at Hejaz's second-in-command.