She woke to an irritating light striking her eyes. The moment her eyelids parted, the brightness felt as if it had driven straight into her skull.

  She winced.

  For a few seconds, she had no idea where she was. She was lying on cold, damp ground; her back ached.

  Her head throbbed.

  Slowly, it came back to her. The crash. The slope. The tree. She had been walking toward the farm.

  She touched her temple. Even thinking felt difficult.

  Carefully, she tried to sit up. The world tilted sideways for a moment. Her stomach twisted.

  She grabbed onto the trunk of the tree beside her. The bark was rough and cold. The chill beneath her fingers sent a faint shiver through her.

  When she truly noticed how large the tree was, she paused.

  Its trunk was marked with burn scars and deep strikes. Time had worn it down but had not bent it. Roots pushed up from the earth and spread outward, as if the forest had gathered around it.

  ?lyara stood there for a moment, simply looking.

  The urge to wrap her arms around the tree crossed her mind. She almost laughed at the thought.

  But she couldn’t look away.

  She stepped closer.

  She placed her hand against the bark. It was cold. Hard. And yet, the instant she touched it, something stirred inside her. This time, she didn’t pull back.

  She wrapped her arms around the trunk.

  When she closed her eyes, the familiar tightness in her chest began to loosen. She didn’t know why.

  But for a moment, it felt good.

  A tear slipped through her lashes. She wiped it away quickly and took a steady breath.

  She stepped back from the tree, though a few steps later she turned to look at it again without meaning to.

  Then she continued walking.

  After a short distance, she noticed an opening between the trees. The dirt road was there.

  She quickened her pace. A small sense of relief spread through her chest. Maybe she would run into someone.

  The moment she reached the road, a horse-drawn carriage rushed past her.

  ?lyara stopped.

  Dust rose into the air.

  For a second, she wasn’t sure she had seen correctly. A carriage?

  She couldn’t remember anyone in this area using horse-drawn carriages anymore. Even rural places had long since adapted to motor vehicles.

  She frowned but didn’t dwell on it. Maybe it was something tourist-related. Maybe just a display.

  But the thought failed to settle the unease within her.

  She was about to keep walking when the horses let out a sharp, pained whinny. The carriage stopped abruptly.

  ?lyara narrowed her eyes.

  Looking more closely, she realized it wasn’t an ordinary carriage. Its matte black body seemed to swallow the light, while the gold trim along its edges glinted faintly. There was a crest-like symbol on the door, though she couldn’t make out the details from this distance.

  A man stepped down from the carriage.

  He was tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired. His clothing resembled a uniform—black and gold, matching the carriage exactly. There were insignia on his sleeve. A sword hung at his left side.

  ?lyara’s brows drew together slightly.

  Maybe they were coming back from a performance… some kind of event. Strange gatherings did happen in this region from time to time.

  But before the thought fully formed, a sharp female voice cut through the air from inside the carriage.

  “Walk home!”

  The sound echoed through the forest. Birds burst from the trees all at once.

  The man placed his hand over his abdomen and inclined his head slightly.

  “As you command…”

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  His voice was deep. Empty.

  The back of ?lyara’s neck tightened. She realized she had been holding her breath. For a moment, she thought his gaze shifted toward her.

  A cold shiver ran down her spine.

  The carriage remained still for a few seconds more. Then the woman’s voice came again, this time carrying more exhaustion than anger.

  “Take care of them as well.”

  The door shut sharply.

  The carriage moved off at speed. The sound of the wheels faded between the trees.

  At that very moment, a shadow burst from between the trees. A man lunged at the uniformed one.

  ?lyara’s heart slammed hard against her ribs.

  The uniformed man did not even turn his head. It was as if he had known the attacker was there all along.

  The man sprang from the trees. The uniformed one shifted a single step to the side; the sword was already in his hand.

  One movement.

  The attacker’s body halted where it stood, then dropped to its knees and collapsed onto the earth.

  A second figure emerged behind him. Running.

  This time, the uniformed man did not wait.

  One strike.

  The second body fell to the ground.

  The forest grew silent again.

  ?lyara stood frozen. Her feet would not move. Her breath caught in her chest.

  The uniformed man slowly lifted his head.

  His gaze turned toward her.

  The moment their eyes met, a shiver ran through her again. She had felt this before. There was no reason for it, yet the same cold settled at the back of her neck every time.

  Those eyes…

  They were empty. No anger. No urgency. No regret.

  As if he had not just killed two men.

  ?lyara’s throat went dry.

  How could he be this calm?

  She looked away. Her gaze dropped to the sword. Blood dripped from its tip into the soil.

  Her stomach tightened.

  For a brief second, she thought the blood was running from her own hands.

  No.

  Don’t be ridiculous.

  The sword was in his hand.

  And yet… for that moment, it felt as if the blood had stained her palms. Her fingers curled in on themselves without meaning to.

  The thought sent a chill through her.

  A trembling voice rose behind her.

  “Mo… mo… morhena…”

  ?lyara flinched.

  Morhena?

  She turned slowly.

  A third man stood there.

  And he was right behind her.

  Her shoulders tensed.

  One step closer and—

  She swallowed.

  The man spoke in a shaking voice, his eyes never leaving the uniformed one.

  “Is… is there a morhena here?”

  The sword slipped from his fingers. The metal struck the ground and tipped over.

  He stood there for one second more.

  Then he ran, not even looking back.

  The wind whipped ?lyara’s hair across her face.

  When she brushed it aside, the uniformed man had already brought him down.

  How was he that fast…

  There had been distance between them. The man had been running.

  For a moment, she thought time had skipped.

  “Please… forgive me. I—I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was you…”

  The man’s voice broke.

  “I have children… I had debts… I had no choice…”

  The uniformed one did not speak.

  He slowly raised the bloodied sword.

  ?lyara’s chest tightened. Fear rose to her throat.

  But there was something else with it—something that burned through her from the inside. She couldn’t tell what it was.

  A moment later, she found herself standing between the uniformed man and the one who was pleading.

  She didn’t remember moving.

  She realized her hand was gripping the wrist that held the sword.

  Her breath caught.

  There was a tremor beneath her palm. But it wasn’t hers. The uniformed man’s fingers were tightened around the hilt.

  She lifted her head. Their eyes met.

  She had never looked at him this closely before.

  His eyes… were gray.

  A cold, dull gray.

  And within that dullness, for the briefest instant, a faint glimmer appeared.

  Very brief.

  Very weak.

  Then it was gone.

  The man on the ground seized the moment. He sprang to his feet and ran without looking back.

  “Thank you! I won’t cross you again!”

  His voice vanished between the trees.

  The uniformed man freed his wrist from ?lyara’s grip. With a handkerchief drawn from his pocket, he wiped the blood from his blade in calm, deliberate motions. His face did not change. Then, as if nothing had happened, he began walking in the direction the carriage had taken.

  ?lyara remained where she stood.

  For a moment, she forgot to breathe. The air in her chest felt heavy; her heart pounded against her ribs. The sound of her own pulse echoed in her ears. Two men had been killed in front of her eyes. She should report it. She pulled out her phone.

  No signal.

  Only then did she notice her hand was trembling. Had it been shaking before, or had it just started now? She wasn’t sure. A drop fell into her palm. She realized too late that it had slipped from her eyes.

  She wiped her face quickly. There was no time for this.

  Darkness was settling in. She couldn’t spend another night in the forest. Hunger tightened her stomach; the throbbing in her head returned with force.

  ?lyara looked toward the trees where the fleeing man had disappeared.

  Where had he gone? How was she supposed to get out of here? Could she still find the farm?

  Her gaze shifted to the uniformed man. He was moving farther away. If she didn’t act now, she might never see him again.

  Was she really going to follow a killer?

  Her throat went dry.

  Did she have another choice?

  He must know the way. At least she could follow him to some kind of settlement. And… he hadn’t harmed her. If anything, moments ago—whether intentionally or not—he had spared her from an attack.

  But that didn’t mean she trusted him.

  It wasn’t trust she needed. It was direction.

  As she pushed herself up, her head spun. She paused, steadying herself. The tightness in her chest hadn’t fully faded. When she felt slightly more stable, she began moving forward with heavy steps.

  That was when she noticed the bodies on the ground.

  They lay sprawled across the soil. Blood had seeped into the earth, turning dark and thick. The wind stirred the leaves; some drifted down silently over the corpses.

  One of the faces caught her attention.

  The eyes were open. Fixed. Empty.

  As if still looking at something.

  Without meaning to, ?lyara locked onto that stare. She searched for something inside it. The smallest trace. A fragment. When she looked at people, she usually felt something—fear, anger, regret. There was always a residue left in their eyes.

  This time, she felt nothing.

  That emptiness spread upward into her chest like a cold void. The chill reached her throat; her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She took a step back. Then another. She turned her head as if to escape those eyes.

  When she looked up again, she saw the uniformed man moving away. His silhouette was blending into the trees, his steps steady and deliberate.

  Following him would be madness. She knew that. Walking behind someone who had just killed two men was not reasonable.

  But staying here—remaining beside these bodies, inside that emptiness she had just felt—seemed worse.

  She took a slow breath.

  “I shouldn’t have seen this,” she murmured.

  She began to walk. After a few steps, she quickened her pace, careful not to lose the distance between them.

  The uniformed man did not turn around. Yet ?lyara felt certain he knew he was being followed. He neither slowed nor sped up. He simply kept walking.

  In the empty forest, they moved forward, leaving a silent distance between them.