With a groan, Ashely felt her mind waken from the darkness. Her body felt as if it were being tossed around. Struggling to clear the confusion and fog from her head, she opened her eyes—only to see nothing. Panic filled her like a flood before she noticed dark shadows racing past her. She was not blind. She was still in the forest, the night sky choked by clouds, casting the already dark woods into absolute blackness.

  All around her, the sound of falling rain and horse hooves pounded in her ears, a constant crescendo of head-splitting noise. Clutching her teeth in pain, she tried to move violently, feeling raw, burning pain as the ropes that bound her cut deeply into her wrists. Crying out loud she shook her head. What was going on? How was she moving in the darkness?

  Closing her eyes, she took note of everything around her. Beneath her, she felt the warmth of a galloping horse. She was slung over it like a sack of grain, her hand and feet bound tightly together. Each jarring movement from the horse caused her ribs to scream in protest as her body bounced up and down. The only comfort she had was that she wasn’t gagged.

  “Keep moving like that, and I'm gonna break that pretty little arm of yours,” growled a voice.

  Feeling fear race up and down her body, she risked a look at who was riding the horse in front of her. In front of her rode the blue-eyed man who had killed her men and taken her.

  Freezing, she tried to calm herself, her bound hands gripping each other. Calm down! Remember what Father taught you. No matter the situation, you can always find an opportunity. Categorize everything into sections: what I have, what I need, and what is happening. I don’t have anything besides what’s on me now, and I need to free myself, so I can set those concerns aside. What I need right now is to figure out what’s happening.

  Taking a moment to regain some of her courage, she glanced back at the man, the false calm she had mustered vanishing as if it were never there.

  The man’s face was illuminated by a reddish glow emanating from the Goshawk Crest on the back of his neck, the light forming a stark contrast to his ice-cold blue eyes. Purely from a physical perspective, the man was handsome—broad shoulders, paired with a captivating face, his black shoulder-length hair waving behind him. But something was off. The smile on his face felt inhuman, almost as if he didn’t truly understand emotions yet mimicked them in ways he assumed others would like.

  Staring at the man’s Crest, Ashely finally understood how they were moving in the dark, the Aether around his eyes allowed him to see and guide his horse regardless of the environment. But more importantly, she had been mistaken. He was not an Arcane Lord. She couldn’t believe it, but he was an Arcane Master—someone on the same level as Prince Hector. Someone who could rival the strongest man in the kingdom.

  Hope faded as she realized the futility of trying to get away, not only was it unthinkable, but if anyone from her Caravan caught up to them, they would be killed without a struggle.

  Clutching her teeth hard to prevent herself from screaming, she felt tears run down her face, the fear and helplessness too much. The situation she was in was hopeless, mentally she was drowning, the dark waters slowly suffocating her mind, cutting off her ability to think straight. As she sunk deeper and deeper into the depths of her mind, she saw flashes before her—her father’s proud smile when she finally grasped how he ran his company, the happiness she felt when he announced she was ready to lead the Golden Caravan, and the praise Zenrom had given her during their training sessions.

  As the agonizing minutes ticked by, she ground herself in the memories of Zenrom teaching her how to fight, his words echoing in her mind.

  “Stay calm if you ever find yourself surrounded by enemies and cut off from your allies. Don’t play by the rules your opponents set. It’s fine to test multiple options, but once you choose one, commit to it with all you might. The fear of failure will hinder you more than the enemy. Do not let opportunities slip past you because of it. Trust your training and trust yourself.”

  Blinking tears away from her eyes, Ashely pulled herself together. Trust in your training. Trust in yourself, she thought over and over again, her breath coming in short. Do not let opportunities slip past you!

  Holding onto the words of Zenrom, she started to think, her mind racing. Why am I still alive? If he wanted me dead, I would be dead long ago. That means he won’t kill me just yet. I have time. Time to find a way to free myself.

  Gently she started to test the ropes that bound her, her wrists grinding against each other as she moved them. The knots are too tight, there’s no way I can get out, but I need to do something before too long. The longer I stay, the further I get from Hagan, and the weaker I become.

  Organizing her thoughts, she laid out what she knew.

  First, due to her kidnapper’s strength, he was either a renowned figure or a hidden card of some organization. Since she had never heard of an Arcane Master with the Crest of a Goshawk, she leaned towards the latter. If her reasoning was correct, the people behind her kidnapping could only be kings, great lords, or powerful underground guilds—such as the Assassin Guild or the Dark Guild who could afford him.

  Second, their horse wouldn’t be able to sustain their pace for much longer. Carrying two people while running through darkness and mud would soon take its toll, forcing them to stop.

  Finally, the weather and Hagan. There was no doubt in her mind, that Hagan and his scouts would be following the hoofprints left in the mud. However, the constant downpour and the darkness would make it very difficult for anyone tracking them to catch up.

  Can I leave a trail for them to follow? she wondered, racking her brain. Maybe I can bite my lips and leave a trail of blood? Or rip out some of my hair with my mouth? No, if the hoofprints would wash away, anything I leave would also be gone. I need to think of something else.

  As she dismissed plan after plan, the horse stumbled slightly causing pain to shoot throughout her stiff cold body. Seeing flashes of white, she groaned, tears spring to her eyes. Goddess, help me. Blinking the tears back she came to a disheartening conclusion—she could not do anything at the moment.

  I need to save my strength for when we stop, she thought. Once we stop, I need to do everything in my power to get away.

  The next couple of hours were a delirious nightmare to Ashely, her cramped body screaming as the rain constantly fell on her, her body failing to retain any heat. By the time the man stopped, she was shivering uncontrollably her lips blue.

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  Dragging her from the back of the horse, the man tossed her to the ground, her bound hands preventing her from breaking her fall.

  Grunting in pain as her body hit the wet ground, she bit her lips to stop from screaming.

  “Don't make noise, if you do, I will break your leg and tie you to my horse,” the man said, walking over to a clear area and starting a fire.

  Lying there, in the mud, Ashely faced the sky. It had stopped raining, but she could not remember when it had. It must be recent, she thought. But it’s still cloudy, it’s going to rain again.

  Whipping her face using her shoulders, she convinced herself that the pause in the rain was good—it would help Hagan track her down. But she needed a way to tell him that the man they were chasing was an Arcane Master.

  Carefully sitting up and spitting out the aftertaste of mud, she glanced back at the panting horse. The horse was dying, its exhausted body on the verge of collapse. If pushed for a couple more hours, she was sure it would die. Feeling anger for the first time in a while, she tested the ropes that bound her again, signing and stopping when she could not free herself. She had to find a different way to break free.

  Glancing over at her captor, she widened her eyes in surprise. He held the wooden box that housed the ornamental sword in his hands. In her state of mind, she did not notice that he had taken it from her caravan.

  Watching as the man opened the box and took out the jewel-embedded weapon, she narrowed her eyes as he turned to her.

  “What is this garbage?” he muttered before breaking into a hollow laugh. Tossing the sword aside he locked eyes with her.

  “When did the Great Maliri start to pedal in such obvious garbage?”

  As she stared at his face, her anger seeped away, replaced by a creeping dread. There was something unnatural about the way he moved—almost as if something inhuman was trying to act like one.

  Grabbing her, he dragged her close to the fire.

  “I’d wager that if you took off all the gems and sold them separately, you would make more than if you tried to sell the sword with them. Are you trying to scam some poor fool?”

  Unceremoniously he dumped her near the fire.

  Holding back tears of rage, she took slow long breaths, in and out. Making up her mind that she would not show weakness, she put on a smile before answering.

  “The Golden Caravan not only trades in the highest quality items. We also run a courier service. If you are looking for anything, we will most certainly have it. However, judging by your appearance, I do not think you can afford something expensive. Luckily for you, we also have a discount selection which will fit you just perfectly.”

  “You think you're so smart, don't you?” the man spat, bringing his face up to hers. His teeth were bared in a wide grin.

  Not breaking eye contact with him, she held on to her smile, aware that antagonizing him could end up disastrous. But she had to gamble— she needed him to say or tell her something she could use.

  “Compared to many of the people I have met, I know I am not smart. However, I am extremely talented in judging a person's intelligence— and unfortunately, you might fall into the less intelligent group,” she said. Internally she was screaming. Please give me something I can use.

  Grabbing her face and pushing her down, the man shouted, making sure she was still bound, hand and foot. “The light will burn your impure soul. There will soon come a day in which people like you will know their place.”

  After making sure she could not escape, he stormed out of the camp, his face twisted from anger.

  As he vanished into the dark, Ashely felt a triumph of victory. It was little—almost nothing, but she had figured out he was a believer of Alumus—a zealous one at that. As a bonus, she had gotten him to leave the area.

  Searching her surroundings for anything that could help, she carefully kicked wet pine needles into the fire, making sure not to smother it. Working quickly, she fed the flames, creating as much smoke as possible.

  As the wet needles hit the fire, white smoke rose into the air, carrying with it the sharp scent of pine. Silently counting the seconds, she tracked how long the man had been gone. It had been long enough. With a final, forceful kick, she smothered the fire with every pine needle in reach, her feet moving frantically.

  The moment the fire died, billows of gray-white smoke tore into the air signaling everyone in a vast area where she was.

  Hagan, please see this!

  Within a couple of minutes, the sounds of snapping twigs announced the return of her kidnapper, his anger so intense that she swore she could feel it radiating off him.

  “You stupid harlot!” he shouted, running over to the smothered fire, and stomping on it to stop the smoke. Cursing wildly to himself he grabbed her by the throat, painfully lifting her to her feet.

  Cut off from the air, Ashely violently tried to break free, her vision slowly turning black.

  “I should kill you,” the man shouted, before tossing her onto his horse.

  Gasping painfully, Ashely took fast shallow breaths, trying to get air back into her lungs, her eyes watering. Knowing that her throat was bruised, she closed her eyes for a second before opening them and glaring at her kidnapper.

  Seeing the way Ashely was looking at him, the man reached over, stuffing a rag into her mouth, and tying it into place before jumping onto the still-exhausted animal. Forcing his horse forward, he ignored its weak protest, digging his heels into its sides before setting a fast pace.

  Soon, Ashely felt the familiar feeling of her ribs being smashed against the horse’s back, the pain returning in a rush. Trying to ignore the pain just made it worse, her battered body protesting with each passing minute. Before an hour had passed, she felt her kidnapper abruptly stop.

  Swinging his head left and right, he looked around as if he were searching for something.

  Watching in horror and confusion, Ashely tensed as he drew his sword, his reddish Aether coating the blade.

  “Halt!”

  A deep clear voice cut the silence of the night.

  Ashely’s eyes widened in wonder as a group of mounted soldiers appeared in front of them, each one glowing with Arcane Light. The light emitting from them reflected off their golden armor causing the darkness to vanish.

  She could not believe what she was seeing! The number of Arcane Knights dictated a country's strength, each one strategically placed. Yet, here in the middle of the forest, an entire unit of them rode into view.

  As her eyes adjusted to the bright Arcane Light, the pointed ears of the soldiers became visible to her. They were the Elves of Lundale!

  “I have no quarrel with Lundale,” the kidnapper growled, lowering the tip of his sword a little. There was a controlled danger in his movement.

  Struggling with all her might, Ashely tried to scream through the gag in her mouth, fearful that the knights did not notice that her kidnapper was an Arcane Master.

  “I demand an explanation of who you are and who that lady on the back of your horse is.”

  A lady clad in pure white armor rode into view, her long, ethereal white hair flowing behind her. Her presence was staggering, so much so that Ashely forgot to warn them that her captor was an Arcane Master. The way her soldiers flanked her made her feel as if justice herself walked the earth.

  There was a tense silence, both sides judging each other's strength and positioning, an invisible clash only felt by those involved.

  Lying there on the horse, Ashely could see the minute muscles in her kidnapper’s face twitch as he silently weighed his options.

  “Don’t bother,” the elven lady broke the silence. “I can see you’re an Arcane Master, but so am I.”

  Almost as if planned, both sides moved at once, the kidnapper grabbing Ashely, tossing her at the Lundale Elves, the Elves shooting arrows from bows that seemed to come out of nowhere.

  Screaming through the rag in her mouth, Ashely felt her body fly through the air, her vision wildly spinning as she flew towards a horse. Closing her eyes as she neared the beast, she felt her body gently stop, her body caught by someone. Opening her eyes she saw the armored lady delicately smiling down at her.

  “You’re safe now. Don’t worry.”

  Before Ashely could fully process what had happened, the sounds of combat echoed within the forest. Spinning her head around in panic she saw the blue-eyed man vanish into the dark, a group of Elven Warriors following.

  “Don't chase him!” the elven lady shouted, her command instantly halting the warriors who were giving chase.

  “Killing him without being prepared would only cause unnecessary death,” she said putting Ashely on the ground. Looking down at her she smiled. “Let’s get you to a fire. We will talk then.”

  Hearing her words Ashely felt a wave of relief envelop her, her legs buckling under her as soon as the tension left her body. Sinking down to the wet ground she nodded.