The Crimson Legacy (In Progress)

Chapter 8: The Void of the Past

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Zephyr had been running for hours, his lungs burning from exhaustion. Ever since he had fled the palace, he'd felt a constant presence—something, or someone, following him. The raven, always circling overhead, watching.

As he trudged through the forest, the raven appeared again, its black feathers gleaming in the moonlight. But this time, something was different. A scroll was tied to the bird's leg, its eerie presence unsettling.

Zephyr hesitated, his heart pounding as he untied the scroll and unfurled it. His eyes scanned the hastily written words, and his heart nearly stopped.

His breath caught in his throat. Panic seized him, and without a second thought, Zephyr bolted, running through the trees as fast as his legs could carry him. The raven flapped its wings and followed, a dark omen in the night.

But after a short distance, Zephyr skidded to a stop, his eyes widening in shock. Clara stood before him, her figure barely visible in the shadows, her cloak billowing around her.

Zephyr gasped, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "You're alive! How—how did you—?"

Clara stepped closer, her scarlet eyes sharp beneath her hood.

As their distance closed in, Clara grunted in pain. Zephyr immediately rushes to her side, deciding they should take shelter first.

The night was cold, the dense forest around them cloaked in darkness. Clara and Zephyr moved swiftly through the trees, their footsteps muffled by the thick underbrush. The chill in the air bit at their skin, but neither of them spoke as they made their way toward a small cave nestled against the mountainside, hidden from sight. Zephyr carried the Tome of Eldrid under his arm, his eyes darting nervously between Clara and the forest around them.

He was shaken. Not just by the weight of the Tome, but by the state Clara was in. Her blood staining the fabric where it clung to her wounds. Her movements were slower, labored. Every step she took seemed to cost her more than the last. But her face—her mask—revealed nothing. Only her scarlet eyes, gleaming beneath her hood, betrayed the pain she was in.

As they reached the cave's entrance, Clara stumbled slightly, catching herself on the stone wall. Zephyr rushed to her side, his voice thick with concern. "You're hurt. You need rest."

Clara shook her head, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. "I'm fine. We'll rest inside." Her voice was firm, but there was a tremor beneath it—one she couldn't quite hide.

The cave was small, barely large enough for the two of them, but it was dry and offered protection from the night's chill.

Zephyr set the Tome down carefully in the corner before gathering what he could for a fire. His hands shook as he lit the flame, the small crackle of wood breaking the heavy silence that hung between them.

As the fire flickered to life, casting soft shadows against the stone walls, Zephyr finally spoke, his voice low. "What happened to you?"

Clara remained silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the flames as if the dancing light could somehow distract her from the pain coursing through her body.

Finally, she took a deep breath, her voice quiet but steady. "I received a letter."