Abigail's POV
I pushed the door open, the light that came from the other side filled the back of the tunnel. Kalaya, beside me, raised her arm to shield her eyes from the bright light. I turned slightly toward her, checking if she was alright.
Then, a loud, sharp schring sliced the air, metal flashing inches from my face. I snapped my head forward to find the gleaming tip of a blade hovering at my throat, the steel reflecting in the light.
“Who are you?!” a familiar voice demanded.
“You would do well to lower your weapon,” I said, raising my hands slowly, keeping my tone even. “It’s impolite to draw your sword in a lady’s face.”
“What lady?” Holly muttered with a dry smirk behind me.
That was unnecessary, I thought, rolling my eyes. Though, annoyingly, she wasn’t entirely wrong.
The person in front stood only a few feet away. A boy with ginger hair that curled at the ends, brown eyes wide with suspicion. His clothes a mix of light browns and tans, frayed at the hems, and an oversized chainmail chest plate that hung crookedly on his frame.
“Hold on…” he said suddenly, his expression shifting as he pulled the sword back. “I know that voice. Abby? What are you doing here?”
“What’s up, gingerbread?” Holly yawned as I glanced back, her arms stretching over her head mid‑sentence, with a tired expression.
“Did you not get my message?” I asked, lowering my hands as he sheathed his sword with a clatter. “I tried to warn you ahead of time. Sadly, it seems it didn’t come through.”
He snorted, relaxing his stance as he grinned slightly. “Nothing much. You? And no kidding!” He let out a breathless laugh.
“About the same,” Holly said, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand. “Long night. Long… everything.”
He gave her a once‑over, half checking for injuries, half teasing. “You look like you crawled through a chimney.”
“That’s rich coming from someone who looks like he lost a fight with a wheat field,” she shot back, flicking dust off her shoulder sleeve in mock offense at his dingy armor. With a faint smile forming on his face, the tension in the room eased slightly, but just a little.
“Well, whatever the case, I’m glad you came.”
“As am I, Eric,” I said, gripping his right shoulder and giving it a playful tug.
“Hold on a minute,” Kalaya said perplexed, eyes darting between us in disbelief. “You know this guy?!”
I gave a wide grin as I hooked an arm around his neck pulling him beside me.
“Yeah, of course. He’s, my brother.”
Kalaya blinked at me, her brain still trying to process what her ears heard.
“Your brother?! How? When? What!?” Her voice pitched with every word, hands flailing in the air with small, confused circles. Before I could answer, Brynlie, who had been lingering near the back of the tunnel, half-hidden in the drifting dust; stepped forward from behind Holly, her brows knit tight.
“Okay, wait. Did I miss something? Because I swear we were just afraid for our lives five minutes ago, and now we’re… hugging strangers?”
Eric raised a hand. “Stranger? Wow. I’m wounded.”
“You held a sword to my throat,” I reminded him.
“Details,” he said with a shrug.
Holly finally stepped forward, arms crossed, her expression unimpressed. “Glad the family reunion is going well, but maybe we save the banter until we know this place is actually safe?”
Eric straightened, the grin fading as his posture shifted back to serious. “Right. Sorry. There’s… a lot you need to see.”
But before he could turn, Holly squinted at him. “Hold on. Are you seriously wearing that chest plate? It’s like three times your size.”
“It’s called protection,” Eric shot back. “Not all of us fight in ripped pants and sarcasm.”
“My pants are not ripped,” Holly said, looking down at them.
“They are literally ripped at the knee.”
“That’s preference, wheat‑boy.”
“Pretty sure it’s just a hole.”
“Pretty sure you don’t know what preference is.”
Kalaya groaned softly. “Are they always like this?”
“Unfortunately,” I said.
Brynlie muttered under her breath, “This is what we’re doing now? Arguing about pants?”
Eric huffed, brushing past Holly with a dramatic shoulder bump. “Anyway. Come on. Before something decides you look like food.”
Holly bumped him back, harder. “Lead the way, scarecrow.”
He stumbled a step, caught himself, and glared. “One day, Holly. One day I’m going to come up with a comeback so good it’ll knock you flat.”
“You’ve been saying that for three years,” she replied.
“And I’m getting closer.”
“No, you’re not.”
He turned toward the narrow passage ahead, motioning for us to follow. The corridor sloped downward, leading to a small flight of stone steps as dust drifted from the ceiling with every footfall.
Halfway down, Holly eyed the back of Eric’s oversized chainmail again. “You know that armor still looks ridiculous.”
Eric didn’t even turn around. “It’s functional.”
“It’s swallowing you whole.”
“It’s protecting me.”
“It’s protecting you from a wooden sword, a tiny one if you’re lucky.”
He spun around mid-step. “You literally fought a dragon wearing a half-torn black coat, and knee-high boots.”
“Hey, the coat was cool.”
“It had a stew stain on the bottom.”
“It was tomato broth, thank you.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
Kalaya groaned softly. “Do they ever stop?”
“Nope,” I sighed. “Not even in their sleep.”
Their bickering echoed down the corridor as he guided us forward, the tension easing just enough to breathe. At the bottom of the stairs, the tunnel widened. A torch hanging from the stone wall caught my eye, its orange blaze filled my view as I stared at it. Strange.
A memory flickered in my mind.
Eric and I, years younger, racing through the wheat fields behind our old village house, laughing breathlessly as the sun dipped low. His hair brighter then, mine longer, flying behind me as both of us ran barefoot and wild. He tripped over a hidden root, I tripped after him, collapsing into the soft grass beside him. Laughing loud as we laid in the grass staring at the sky like this moment would never end.
Then smoke curled up from the west.
We sat upright at the same instant. A distant scream tore through the air. Eric’s hand grabbed mine and we ran. The wheat slapped against our legs as we sprinted toward the village. Flames licked the rooftops by the time we reached the edge of the village. People in black masks moved like shadows, setting fire after fire. The crackle of burning wood mixed with panicked shouts.
“Ahhh!” I screamed as arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me clean off the ground. The world flipped upside down as I was thrown over a stranger’s shoulder.
“Don’t touch her!” Eric’s voice cracked as he charged forward. He kicked the man carrying me, hard enough that the stranger staggered. A loud smack sounded from somewhere behind my view. I didn’t see who it landed on, but the sound alone made tears spill down my cheeks. Another masked figure grabbed Eric from behind, hoisting him over a shoulder like he weighed nothing. Both men started walking towards a waiting cart.
“Let them go!” a familiar voice roared from behind us.
A blade cut through the air with a metallic hiss. The man holding me jerked, then dropped me. I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. My vision blurred as I pushed myself up, just in time to see the other masked man carrying Eric farther away. Eric kicked and swung his fists, desperate, refusing to give up even as he was hauled toward the cart.
I reached my hand out to him, fingers stretching toward what I couldn’t reach. The image shimmered, then dissolved like mist. I blinked as my head was lowered, my breath catching, and the tunnel returned.
“Hey, you ok Abigail?” Brynlie said concerned as she walked beside me.
“Yeah, just, a little tired,” I smiled back.
Eric turned to face us. “We’re here.” He guides us around a sharp corner that reveal something huge.
The safe room wasn’t a room at all. It was a massive underground hall, stretching farther than I expected. Lanterns hung from makeshift beams, casting uneven light across the space. People, tons of them, huddled in clusters. Families. Elders. Children wrapped in blankets. Faces from the city above, now pale with exhaustion and fear. Some looked up as we entered. Others didn’t care or were asleep. Kalaya’s breath hitched. Brynlie’s eyes widened. Holly’s smirk faded. The weight of it settled over us like dust.
Eric stepped forward, voice low. “Come, this way.”
He led us deeper into the hall, weaving between clusters of exhausted citizens. The air was thick with murmurs, quiet sobs, and the rustle of blankets. A few lanterns flickered overhead, their light stretching long shadows across the stone floor. People watched us pass, some with hope, some with suspicion, some too drained to react at all.
Kalaya stayed close, her eyes darting from face to face. “There are… so many,” she whispered, voice trembling. “How did all of them even get down here?”
Brynlie hugged her arms around herself, scanning the room with a furrowed brow. “What happened up there? This looks like half the city.”
Eric didn’t answer, his jaw tightened and kept walking.
We followed him toward the far side of the hall, where a section of the wall had been reinforced with metal beams and wooden boards. A small room, more like a command post; sat tucked into the stone. Several people in mismatched armor stood inside. Leather, chainmail, iron armor, even a few pieces that looked like they haven’t been used in a while.
As Eric stepped through the doorway first, the group straightened. One of them, a broad‑shouldered woman with a dented pauldron, nodded sharply.
“Captain.”
Eric lifted a hand in greeting, but Holly snorted behind him. “Captain? Really? Since when did you get a title?”
He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Since people started listening to me.”
“Tragic,” she said. “Truly tragic ginger bread.”
The woman who’d called him Captain stepped forward first. Up close, her dark, brown hair was tied back in a small, rough braid, and her eyes sharpened at us. She looked like she had been on edge for far too long.
“Captain,” she repeated, but this time her gaze settled on me, then Holly, then the others. “These your people?”
Eric nodded. “McKenzie, I’d like you to meet Holly, Kalaya, Brynlie, and my sister Abigail. This is the group I told you about.”
McKenzie gave a curt nod, respectful, but clearly assessing our worth. “Good. We could use more hands.”
Holly raised a brow. “Hands for what, exactly? Because if it’s laundry, I’m out.”
Before McKenzie could respond, another figure stepped forward. A tall man with sandy hair and a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. He blinked at Holly and Eric, then at the rest of us.
“Are… they always like this?” he asked, bewildered.
“Unfortunately,” I muttered wishing I didn’t have to repeat myself for the third time.
Eric shot me a betrayed look. “Hey.”
“Prove me wrong,” I said.
He opened his mouth, closed it, then pointed at me like he’d think of a comeback later.
A younger girl, maybe sixteen; peeked out from behind the tall man. Her hair was a soft ash‑blonde, braided in two that hanged loosely over both shoulders, and she wore a mismatched set of leather bracers that were clearly too big for her. She lifted a hand in a shy wave as she stood behind him.
“I’m Aurora,” she said quietly.
Kalaya’s expression softened. “Hi. I love your braids.”
Aurora brightened instantly.
Next to her stood a stocky boy with dark curls and glasses that hung over a scar across his eyebrow. He crossed his arms, trying to look older than he was. “Samuel,” he said, voice deeper than expected.
“I’m Claire,” a voice from the side announced cheerfully; her loose, short hair barely touching her shoulders.
“And I’m Eli,” said the last of them who Aurora was standing behind. He looked wiry with quick eyes and a nervous energy that made him look like he was listening to three conversations at once. “You all came from Capital City?”
“Yeah, more or less,” Brynlie said, still taking in the room. “And it looks like we weren’t the only ones running in a hurry.”
“No one was running,” Samuel said defensively.
Eli elbowed him. “We were absolutely running.”
Samuel glared. “We were strategically relocating.”
Holly snorted. “Sure. And Eric’s armor is strategically oversized.”
Eric groaned. “Can you not-”
“Not what? Tell the truth?” Holly asked.
“You don’t even know what truth is,” he shot back.
“Bold words from someone who once insisted the moon was bigger in winter.”
“That was one time!”
“And you were wrong!”
McKenzie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Captain, please. We’re trying to maintain morale, not destroy it.”
Eric cleared his throat, straightening as if remembering he was supposed to be in charge. “Right. Sorry. There’s a lot to discuss.”
The others stepped aside, giving him room. A lantern hung above the maps spread over the table. Circles, arrows, hastily drawn symbols that made my head hurt.
“Come on.” Eric motioned us closer to the table. Holly, Brynlie, and Kalaya drifted to one side, forming a loose line, while McKenzie and the four knights: Claire, Samuel, Eli, and Aurora took their places across from them. The lanternlight flickered over their armor, throwing shifting shadows across the maps.
“Here,” Eric said, hooking a hand around my elbow and guiding me toward the end of the table, right between the two groups. “You’re next to me. You’ve got information to share.”
“Uh, sure.” I nodded, bracing myself as everyone’s attention settled on us.
Eric planted both hands on the table, leaning over the maps. “Right. So, for starters, they came from the northwest, across the Ethereal River. Just before dawn. And on the opposite side of the outer gate from where most of our people were keeping watch.”
A ripple of unease passed through the room.
“It was strategically coordinated,” he continued, voice tightening. “Almost flawless. Once they were in, it was too late. They slipped into the castle first where McKenzie, I, and a few others were stationed. Then attacked from the front as a diversion over running us. As the King’s guards, the ‘Threshold Guardians,’ it was our duty to keep the castle safe but…”
His voice cracked. He lowered his head, fingers curling against the table’s edge.
“His majesty told me to prioritize the citizens. We lost… a lot of good people trying to escape.”
A heavy silence filled the air that felt thick. I reached out, placing my hand over his. “You got so many people out,” I said softly.
Holly exhaled through her nose, arms crossed but expression gentler than usual. “I’ll give you this much, gingerbread. If it wasn’t for you and the others, there probably wouldn’t be this many here.”
“Yeah, Captain!” Claire chimed in brightly. “Think positive!”
Eric managed a small, warm smile before turning to me. “Abby, got anything to add?”
“Yeah.” I straightened. “Once Lord Jayce informed me back at the Capital-”
“Lord Jayce?!” Eli yelped, nearly choking on his own breath.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Clearly, you did not get my message. Holly. You sure you sent it?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding with exaggerated confidence. “However, obviously gingerbread here can’t read anything unless it’s a map.”
Eric’s head snapped toward her. “I can read just fine!”
“Mm‑hmm,” Holly said, folding her arms once again. “And yet somehow the message I sent you ends up in the void. Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something.”
A few of the knights snorted. Even Brynlie cracked a smile.
Eric threw his hands up. “I didn’t get it, alright!”
“Wait.” I cut in, staring at him. “You’re being serious?”
“Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying!”
A cold prickle crawled up my spine as I looked around the table.
“But if you didn’t get it then… Who did?”
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