The prophecy of a blind heiress

Narrow escape

As they navigated the dark corridors, the air grew thick with tension. Princess Hazel's heart pounded in her chest, and Hartson's grip on her hand tightened. They moved swiftly, their footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls.

Suddenly, Hartson froze, his head cocked to one side. Princess Hazel's ears strained to pick up the sound, and then she heard it too – the clanging of armor, the murmur of voices, and the heavy tread of boots.

"It's the guards," Hartson whispered, his voice barely audible. "They're coming from both directions. We need to move, now!"

Without hesitation, Hartson pulled Princess Hazel into a narrow alcove, hiding them from view. They pressed themselves against the wall, holding their breath as the guards marched past, their torches casting flickering shadows on the walls.

As the guards disappeared around the corner, Hartson and Princess Hazel exchanged a tense glance. They knew they couldn't stay hidden for long.

Hartson's eyes scanned the area, and then he spotted a small ventilation shaft in the wall, partially hidden by a tattered tapestry. Without a word, he lifted Princess Hazel up, and she wriggled into the narrow opening.

Hartson followed, his broad shoulders squeezing through the tight space. They found themselves in a cramped, dimly lit crawl space, the air thick with dust and the smell of decay.

As they caught their breath, Princess Hazel whispered, "Where are we?"

Hartson's voice was low and reassuring. "We're above the dungeon. This crawl space runs along the ceiling. We'll make our way to the east wing, where I've arranged for a rope to be left. We'll climb down to the gardens and make a run for the forest."

Princess Hazel's heart skipped a beat. They were so close to freedom, yet the risk of discovery still loomed large.

Just as they began to move forward, a faint noise echoed through the crawl space – the sound of armor scraping against stone, followed by the muffled voice of a guard.

"They're searching the ventilation shafts," Hartson whispered urgently. "We need to keep moving, now!"

With Hartson leading the way, they crawled through the narrow space, their hearts pounding in unison. The guard's voice grew louder, and Princess Hazel knew they were running out of time.

As they crawled through the narrow ventilation shaft, the sound of the guard's voice grew louder. Hartson's heart racing, he pushed Princess Hazel forward, urging her to move faster.

Suddenly, the shaft opened up into a larger space, and Hartson saw a glimmer of light ahead. He pulled Princess Hazel towards the light, and they emerged into a cramped, dimly lit room.

Hartson locked the door behind them, his chest heaving with exertion. Princess Hazel leaned against the wall, her face pale and drawn.

"We made it," Hartson whispered, his eyes scanning the room. "This is the east wing. The rope should be waiting for us outside the window."

Princess Hazel nodded, her eyes fixed on the window. Hartson approached it cautiously, peering out into the night.

The moon was full, casting a silver glow over the gardens below. Hartson spotted the rope, coiled neatly on the windowsill. He turned to Princess Hazel, a smile spreading across his face.

"It's time to go," he whispered, offering her his hand.

Princess Hazel took a deep breath, her eyes flashing with determination. Together, they climbed out the window, the rope creaking beneath their weight.

As they descended into the gardens, the cool night air enveloped them, filled with the scent of blooming flowers. Hartson's heart swelled with hope – they were one step closer to freedom.

But as they reached the ground, Hartson's ears picked up the sound of footsteps, echoing through the gardens. Lady Victoria's guards were closing in...