CHAPTER 256: THE BATTLE REACHED HER DOOR

Lorraine’s face went pale as the truth settled in. Aldric hadn’t planned to save them both. He had planned to save her.

And knowing Sylvia, brave, bright and loyal Sylvia, she hadn’t been forced into this. The calm, steady smile on her lips was proof enough. It wasn’t resignation she wore, but resolve.

Lorraine’s throat tightened. Sylvia didn’t need to do this. All Lorraine had to do was vanish through one of the tunnels; she could disappear into the labyrinth beneath the city and resurface when it was safe. There was no need for Sylvia to act as bait, no need for sacrifice. Everyone simply needed to get out alive.

"You cannot go to the red-light district now," Aldric murmured, leaning close to her ear. His voice was low and rough, each word cut short by urgency. "And we’ve sealed some of the tunnels."

Lorraine turned sharply toward him. "Sealed? Why?"

His eyes darted to the window, where the faintest shimmer of smoke drifted beyond the courtyard walls. "They’re inside," he said.

For a heartbeat, she didn’t understand. Then it hit her.

"Inside?" Lorraine whispered.

Aldric nodded grimly.

Her stomach dropped, cold and hollow. She had thought they had breached the walls, that there was still time to act, to defend, to warn. But they were already in the mansion. Her mind reeled.

"They’re going to burn it down," she said softly. The words came unbidden, the same words she’d seen in her vision. The pieces clicked together with terrifying clarity.

Aldric froze for the barest moment, then nodded, his face taut with dread.

Lorraine’s composure returned like a blade drawn from its sheath. "Do not leave Sylvia’s side," she commanded.

Sylvia met her gaze, eyes glimmering with warmth and courage. "I’ll help you out of this," she said, ushering Lorraine deeper into the room.

Lorraine followed, her heart pounding. "You don’t have to do this, Sylvia," she insisted, her voice almost breaking.

But Sylvia didn’t answer. Her fingers were quick and steady as she worked to unlace the gown from Lorraine’s shoulders, tugging at the ties with practiced precision.

"Change into this," she said, handing Lorraine a plain dress of soft linen—the kind a maid might wear. "Go through the tunnels that lead beyond the city walls. Lord Osric will be waiting for you there. We’ll send word to the Prince. He’ll find you."

Lorraine opened her mouth to argue, but before she could speak, Sylvia stepped away, already walking toward the door, her mind made up.

"Sylvia—" Lorraine reached out, still half-dressed, but the younger woman didn’t turn back.

"Sylvia!" she called again.

The door opened.

"Aldric!" Lorraine’s voice cracked through the room. "Stay with her!"

She didn’t know if he heard her over the distant roar of panic beginning to swell beyond the walls, but she prayed he did.

Because somewhere beneath the sound of music and laughter still echoing faintly through the mansion, the fire had already begun.

-----

The clang of steel rang through the late afternoon air like a storm of iron. The narrow, winding roads leading to the mansion, through autumn woods, had turned into a battlefield. Crimson leaves drifted through the dust, curling like burning parchment as they fell onto bodies, both living and dead.

Leroy cut through another soldier, his blade slick with blood, his breath ragged but steady. Every swing was driven by something beyond fury, something desperate. Every strike was for the woman waiting in that mansion. For the home that might already be burning.

"Push forward!" he shouted, his voice rough. His men, battered yet relentless, surged with him, their boots crushing fallen leaves and corpses alike.

The Emperor’s guards, hundreds of them, moved in disciplined waves. They had numbers, but Leroy’s men fought with vengeance, knowing they fought not for gold or loyalty, but for their prince’s life.

Damian’s sword flashed from the other side, cutting down an armored knight. "Have you prepared for an army? I sure wasn’t!" he snarled, his tone more grim than jesting.

"I wasn’t," Leroy growled, parrying a strike. He looked toward the path that led to the mansion, his mansion, where laughter and music still echoed faintly through the distant hills. "We can never allow them to reach the walls."

He turned his horse, intent on breaking through. "Cover me!" he shouted, but before his steed could take two strides, a horn sounded, a sharp, hollow cry from the east.

From the dense shadows of the trees, more soldiers emerged. Their banners glinted with the golden lion of Vaeloria. Hundreds more. The Emperor’s reinforcements.

"Damn it!" Damian spat, backing into position beside him. "They’ve circled us."

Leroy’s eyes darted through the trees; the woods that once led him home now looked like a cage. The mansion’s roof was barely visible through the smoke-hazed horizon.

He could almost smell the faint trace of vyrnshade blossom, Lorraine’s perfume, carried by the wind. Or he could be imagining it like the countless times he had imagined in the battlefields. This time, she was so close and yet the distance felt like a great chasm of danger.

"She’s in there," he muttered, more to himself than to Damian. "They cannot get to her."

"Then we fight," Damian said grimly, drawing his blade once more.

The sound of another horn shattered the last trace of calm. The Emperor’s army advanced from both sides, steel flashing in the dimming light.

The sky had turned molten-orange, bleeding into dusk, as if the heavens themselves mirrored the fire to come.

-----

Sylvia’s footsteps faded down the corridor, the echo of her hurried steps mingling with the faint music rising from the ballroom below. Her quick kiss still lingered on Aldric’s lips, light, trembling, as if she already knew it might be the last.

His lips trembled but his hands did not. He knew his duty. His duty was for Lorraine. Sylvia understands it too. That was why she supported him.

He stood by the door, sword drawn, the torchlight glinting off the steel. The manor was too quiet on this floor. Too still. The bells hadn’t rung yet. Either Emma and Elias hadn’t reached the alarm ropes... or they’d already been silenced.

Aldric tightened his grip.

Then came the sound... soft at first, then sharp and unmistakable. Glass shattering.

His blood ran cold. The stained windows. They were breaking through the upper storey.

"Damn it," he hissed under his breath, glancing once toward Lorraine’s chamber door before sprinting to the nearest window. The colored shards glittered like falling jewels as figures in black scaled through, their movements too silent, too trained. Imperial assassins.

He met the first with a clean strike to the throat, but another slipped in behind, steel clashing in the dim candlelight. Aldric fought like a man possessed, every motion fueled by the single command echoing in his mind: Protect her.

From the far end of the corridor, another crash. The second stained glass shattered, raining red and blue fragments over the carpet. Through it stepped a lone figure, tall, armored, his cloak torn but bearing the unmistakable gold insignia of a general. The sword at his hip shimmered with a pattern of lions.

The Emperor’s personal envoy.

Lorraine, meanwhile, fumbled with the clasps of her dress, fingers trembling. The sounds outside... the clash of metal, the cry of pain, turned her blood to ice.

And then...

The door opened.

Slowly. Too slowly.

Lorraine froze. Her heart pounded against her ribs so violently she thought it would give her away.

Leroy? For an instant, hope flared. He would come through that door, he would save her, he always did...

But the movement was deliberate. Careful. Predatory.

Her breath caught. No.

Her reflection in the mirror was pale as death. She hadn’t fastened the back of her gown; the fabric hung loosely against her skin..

The door creaked open, inch by inch, revealing the shadow of a man on the other side.

Lorraine’s hands stilled.

That was not Leroy.

She realized then that the battlefield had reached her doorstep. She tried to fasten her gown as quickly as possible.

What shall I do now?