The knights standing guard stepped aside, their expressions a mix of concern and uncertainty as Elena walked past them.
She stopped halfway along the wall and turned toward the forest, her breath catching in her throat.
The stone barrier barely reached her shoulders, with small square openings that allowed an unobstructed view of the horizon. Elena gripped the edge of the wall and peered out, her wide eyes scanning the darkness.
From this high vantage point, the scene unfolded before her in harrowing clarity. What had once been small, flickering lights in the distance had now transformed into roaring infernos. Flames surged into the night sky, consuming everything in their path.
Thick black smoke spiraled upward, expanding rapidly like an ominous storm cloud. For a brief moment, Elena’s vision wavered.
In her disoriented state, the chaotic scene seemed to blend with another—a memory, perhaps? Birds, startled from their slumber, flapped their wings frantically, scattering into the night. The sight triggered a jarring sense of déjà vu.
Two eerily similar landscapes overlapped in her mind, then tore apart as though ripping at the seams of her reality. Was this truly happening, or was it a vision from her past?
Faint, haunting screams echoed in her ears. Cries of terror and anguish—raw and desperate—cut through the night like the sharp edge of a blade.
Elena clutched her ears, trying to block out the phantom sounds, her body curling inward as if to shield herself.
“Elena, what’s wrong?” Cura’s voice reached her, faint and distorted, as though muffled by water.
But Elena couldn’t respond. Her chest tightened as flames suddenly erupted closer, licking the edges of the castle wall.
Thick, acrid smoke swept over her, stinging her eyes and choking her lungs. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, and her breaths came in shallow gasps.
“Haah… haah… help me…” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper, as panic overtook her.
Stumbling backward, she grabbed the iron handle of the door behind her, banging on it with all her remaining strength.
“Help me! I’m scared! Please, someone…” Her screams tore from her throat, raw and desperate, but they were swallowed by the chaos around her.
The smoke thickened, pressing against her lungs like a vice. She could feel it invading her, suffocating her, as her cries for help became rasping gasps.
“Please…” Her voice faltered, fading into the cacophony of distant screams and the relentless roar of fire.
Elena’s chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, each cough racking her body with pain. She pounded on the heavy door with her fists, her desperation mounting with every blow.
“Open the door! I’m here—please, open it!”
Tears streamed down her soot-streaked face, blurring her vision. The sharp sting in her eyes made it nearly impossible to keep them open, and the acrid smoke clawing at her throat stole what little air she could grasp.
The world around her spun, tilting as though the ground itself were rising to crush her. Her head throbbed, and her legs buckled beneath her.
Elena collapsed onto the cold stone floor, her strength drained. The chaos around her seemed to fade, the deafening roar of the flames and distant cries dimming as if muffled by an unseen veil.
Time stretched unnaturally—each second felt like an eternity. Through half-lidded eyes, she blinked sluggishly, the world around her moving in hazy, fragmented images.
Then, a creak.
The iron door, which had seemed immovable moments ago, groaned open. A figure stepped through, their movements hurried yet unsteady, as though they were on the verge of collapse themselves.
They dropped to their knees before her, hands trembling as they gently cradled her head.
“Elena!”
Though their voice was strained with urgency, it felt distant, as if coming from the other side of a thick fog. Elena tried to focus, but their face remained a blur.
All she could make out was the soft glow of red hair—a hue strikingly similar to her own.
Warmth enveloped her as the person pulled her into an embrace, their hands tenderly brushing her cheek. The familiar scent of their pheromones reached her, stirring a sense of safety and comfort deep within her fading consciousness.
“Mom…”
The word slipped from her lips in a barely audible whisper.
Reassured by the warmth and the soothing touch, Elena allowed her eyes to close, her mind surrendering to the darkness with a faint sense of peace.
***
“No!”
Elena’s scream tore through her throat, raw and desperate. She thrashed violently, her limbs flailing as if trying to escape an unseen force.
She thought her voice had echoed loud enough to shatter the silence, but as her awareness returned, she realized the scream existed only in her mind. Her lips parted soundlessly, the echoes trapped within her.
She opened her eyes, and an icy chill cascaded through her body, from her scalp to her toes. Cold sweat clung to her skin, her breaths ragged and shallow, as if she’d been running endlessly without pause.
Her heart pounded furiously, each beat an echoing drum in her chest that refused to settle. Slowly, her breaths steadied, and her eyes began to adjust to the dim light surrounding her.
A rich blue silk curtain embroidered with intricate golden patterns came into view, hanging from a wooden pillar with carved reliefs. Its edges were neatly tied with decorative cords. Beyond the blue curtain hung a delicate white veil, so thin it was almost transparent, swaying faintly like a whisper in the air.
Elena became aware of the firm yet soft mattress beneath her, the heavy warmth of thick sheets draped over her.
For a long moment, her mind was blank—a void of thought or memory. Then, recognition dawned.
This was her bed. The one she shared with Kennard.
“When did I come back here?” she murmured softly to herself, her voice barely audible.
She couldn’t remember. The last clear image in her mind was of standing atop the castle wall, looking down at the village of the White Fox Tribe engulfed in chaos.
Had it all been a dream?
A strange sensation gripped her. The harder she tried to grasp at the memories, the more they slipped away—dissolving like shadows chased by the dawn. A dull ache bloomed at her temples as the fragments of the nightmare receded into nothingness.
It was as if her mind was deliberately shielding her from the terror, burying it beneath layers of forgetfulness.
Elena sighed and let her body sink deeper into the bed, deciding to stop forcing the memory. Slowly, she turned her head to peer past the curtain.
Cura sat slumped in a chair beside the bed, her chin dipping toward her chest as she dozed. Her head bobbed slightly with each shallow breath, the fatigue evident in her peaceful but weary posture.
