Yamin was worried deep down. The kind of worry that clung to the ribs like cold iron—but she wore her calm like armor. No one could see the storm inside her. Her face was still, her posture composed, even as thoughts swirled through her mind like dust in a windstorm.
The council chamber had emptied. The scent of old parchment and burning oils still lingered. Outside, hooves stamped restlessly against the cobbled floor as a squad of twenty horsemen assembled—sharp, disciplined, ready to ride. Two High Generals stood at the front, giving orders, tightening straps, and checking weapons. Their presence alone said everything: this was no ordinary mission.
Inside the leaders' council room, the air was heavy with silence as Yamin stood before Jasmine.
"I want to go with them," Yamin said. Her voice was even, but her eyes held the fire of determination.
From Jasmine, "No," she said firmly. "I'm afraid I can't let you. It's far too risky."
Yamin didn't flinch. "I'm not asking for your permission out of fear," she said. "You know I can handle myself out there."
"I know that," Jasmine admitted. "But this is different. I won't let them take you away. If something happens to you, I'll never forgive myself."
She stood slowly, walking over to Yamin. Her voice softened, almost pleading. "Please… stay. Don't make this harder."
Yamin's lips tightened. "But I'm one of our best trackers, Jasmine. You know that. When Rumi escaped—the one they all feared—who brought him back? Me. I traced him through six ridges and across the forest plain as far as the silent salt plains. Everyone had given up… but I didn't. I found him. Alive."
Jasmine shook her head, her hand reaching gently to rest on Yamin's shoulder. "No, Yamin. Not this time. Gabby isn't like the others. You won't be able to track her. She's ahead—smart, slippery. She'll see you coming before you take your first step."
Yamin's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "I know who Gabby is," she replied. "But you forget—I'm not chasing her alone. I'd be with the team. I just want to help."
Jasmine's gaze softened, but her resolve did not. She stepped even closer, voice low and protective. "Why risk your life for a boy you barely know? You don't know where he comes from, his past, his truth. And you said it yourself—he doesn't love you."
A long silence passed. Yamin turned her eyes toward the window. The wind rustled the treetops outside. She took a breath.
"I know," she said quietly. "I don't love him either. Not like that. But something inside me tells me to go. I can't explain it. It's not about him… it's about being where I'm supposed to be."
She turned back to Jasmine. "Please. Let me go."
Jasmine looked into her eyes—and saw the same trick again. Those soft, luring eyes Yamin had used to melt the hearts of interrogators and charm confessions out of criminals. They begged without a sound.
Jasmine sighed heavily and turned away. She couldn't bear to look at her anymore. "No, Yamin. My answer stays the same."
And just like that, the conversation came to an end. One of the most skilled warriors of the court would remain behind. Not by choice, but by command.
They stood quietly, neither sure how to say goodbye, until finally a small nod passed between them. They went their separate ways.
Yamin, however, didn't stop. The fire in her hadn't died. As she walked through the stone corridor, her boots tapping softly against the floor, she caught sight of a guard rounding the bend.
"Hey, you," she called sharply.
The guard straightened, stepping closer.
"I need you to find someone for me," she said. Her voice had changed—no longer pleading, but full of command. "A young woman. A maiden. She's the sister of the one who escaped. The boy."
The guard thought for a moment, frowning. "I think I know who you're talking about. I've seen them before. There are two girls. Friends, I believe."
Yamin nodded, eyes narrowing. "Then find them both. Immediately. Bring them to me, wherever they are."
"Yes, Commander," the guard replied with a quick bow, then turned and hurried off down the corridor.
Yamin stood still for a moment. Silent. Calculating.
She wasn't going out with the horsemen—but that didn't mean she was out of the game.
Not yet.
Just then, a man rushed into the hall where Yamin stood, her thoughts already tangled in a quiet storm.
He bowed slightly, then straightened with urgency in his eyes. "Commander Yamin," he said. "A woman just arrived with a report… concerning a missing daughter and her friend."
Yamin's gaze sharpened instantly. That quiet, gut-deep intuition she had tried to ignore was starting to stir again.
"A missing daughter?" she repeated. "Can I know their names?"
The man unrolled a piece of parchment he had been holding, his eyes scanning the written words.
"It says here… Skyler and Elsie."
Yamin's eyes flickered. She stood motionless for a moment, processing the names. That exact thought had crept into her mind earlier—uninvited, but persistent. She had dismissed it then, too focused on command decisions and council affairs. But now it was right in front of her.
Skylar. Elsie.
Of all the people in the kingdom, it had to be them.
"Well," she said slowly, keeping her voice flat, "we'll deal with this in due time." She waved a hand toward the exit. "You may leave."
The guard gave a short nod and exited the hall, his boots echoing down the stone corridor.
Yamin stood still. She didn't move, but inside, her mind was turning fast. Her hands clenched behind her back. This wasn't just coincidence. The piece she needed had landed straight into her palms. She didn't have all the answers yet—but this lead… this lead would burn its own trail.
Meanwhile, deep in the forest, the air had grown colder. A breeze passed through the tall grass and whistled across the stone walls of the hidden cavern. Inside, the group was adjusting to their strange sanctuary.
"This stone won't even light a spark," Skylar muttered, crouched near the small stone fire pit. She struck two stones together again—clack clack—but only a weak spark flared and quickly died. "How does anyone survive like this?"
"Watch me," Gabby said confidently, crouching beside her. She snatched the stones, gripped them with practiced fingers, and struck them together sharply—once, then twice.
A sudden flame danced into life.
An energy to begin the cooking.
Skyler blinked, impressed but too proud to say anything.
Gabby rose, brushing her hands clean, then moved toward one of the wardrobe-like shelves carved into the stone wall. She opened a large compartment and pulled out a bundle of supplies.
She had enough grains and dried herbs stored in jars to last a few days. From another wrapped cloth, she took out already-prepared food—some cereal mix and baked flatbread made from stored flour and sunflower oil. She had prepared these earlier in anticipation of long travel or uncertain shelter.
Soon, the scent of warm food drifted through the cave. Steam lifted from the simple but hearty meal.
Without a word, Gabby served it out to them in a wooden carved bowl. Skyler took hers quickly. Elsie sat close by, quiet but grateful, her eyes still wide from the surreal nature of their hideout.
Tony, however, barely touched his plate. His face was pale, his body slouched. He had said little since they arrived.
He had pushed through the journey with grit, but the weight of exhaustion finally slammed into him.
He swayed slightly where he sat, his fingers barely gripping the edge of the plate. And then—without warning—his head dropped back, and he slipped into unconsciousness, fainting softly against the stone bed.
"Tony!" Elsie gasped, rushing to his side.
Gabby moved over, placing a steady hand on his forehead. "He's okay," she said after a moment. "Just tired. His body's giving out from stress and lack of rest."
"He needs to stay in bed," Skyler said, more seriously now. "We'll keep watch. Let him sleep."
They laid him down gently, covering him with a thick cloth Gabby pulled from another niche in the wall. His breathing was calm, but he didn't stir.
Outside the cave, unseen and distant, the rhythmic thunder of hooves grew louder on the forest paths. Soldiers—twenty in number—rode steadily, searching the thick green wilderness, eyes scanning for signs of movement, for footprints, for anything.
...WHAT HAPPENS NEXT