The World Cannot Know

Chapter 33

Matthew Wild

With one last glance at Marcus, I kicked the horse into motion. The animal bolted forward, hooves pounding against the earth as we sped away from the castle. The wind whipped through my hair, and the cold night air stung my face, but I barely noticed. My mind was focused solely on the escape, on putting as much distance as possible between myself and the place where my death sentence awaited.

The forest loomed ahead, dark and dense, but I knew it was my only refuge. I urged the horse on, pushing it to its limits as we approached the treeline. The sound of the bells grew fainter with each stride, and the shadows of the trees soon enveloped me, offering a temporary sanctuary from the world that sought to condemn me.

I didn't know how long I rode, but eventually, the horse began to slow, its breath labored from the hard run. We had covered a good distance, and I could no longer hear the bells in the distance. The realisation that I had made it this far—that I had a chance—brought a surge of relief so powerful it almost made me dizzy.

The moon hung low, casting an eerie glow on the path ahead as I urged myself to keep moving. The forest loomed in the distance, a dark, twisted sanctuary that might offer some protection—if I could reach it in time.

But as I neared the treeline, movement caught my eye. Three figures stepped out from the shadows, their armor gleaming in the dim light. Guards. My stomach dropped. I froze, instinctively taking the reins, but before I could steady my horse into a gallop, I was flung backwards, tumbling off the horse, as it was startled by their loud voices. It broke off into the forest, leaving me with my heart pounded in my ears as I realised just how exposed I was. No weapon, no plan—just desperation.

"Stop right there," one of them ordered, his voice cold and authoritative. The other two closed in, cutting off any chance of escape.

Panic surged through me. I had nothing, not even a rock to throw. Just my bare hands and the adrenaline coursing through my veins. The nearest guard took a step forward, his sword already drawn. I could see the cruel anticipation in his eyes.

"We've got orders to kill you," another one said, his grin widening as he brandished his weapon.

My mind raced, trying to calculate my chances. There were none. Not like this. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a cold sweat break out across my skin. The reality of my situation slammed into me—I was completely and utterly vulnerable.

Without a word, the first guard lunged at me, his sword cutting through the air. I barely managed to throw myself to the side, rolling across the dirt. Pain flared in my shoulder as I hit the ground, but I scrambled to my feet, fueled by sheer terror.

They were on me in an instant, relentless. One of them slashed at me, and I twisted away just in time, feeling the blade graze my ribs. The other swung at my head, and I ducked, my heart hammering in my chest. My hands curled into fists, but I knew they were useless against trained soldiers with steel in their hands.

I had no choice but to run. But as I turned, one of the guards grabbed me, his grip ironclad around my arm. He yanked me back, and before I could react, he slammed the hilt of his sword into my stomach. The air rushed out of my lungs, and I doubled over in pain, gasping for breath.

A kick to my side sent me sprawling to the ground. I coughed, trying to suck in air as the world spun around me. The taste of blood filled my mouth, but I forced myself to look up. The guards loomed over me, their faces twisted in satisfaction. They knew they had me. They knew it was over.

But something inside me refused to accept it. I couldn't just lie there and die. Not like this. With a surge of desperation, I rolled away, ignoring the searing pain in my side. I stumbled to my feet, my vision blurring, and bolted for the trees.