Kael hid the body again. There were still three sentries, unmoved by the death of a comrade until now. He needed absolute silence. He waited for the men to change guards and, with a broken body and eyes that no longer glowed, silently did the same with two more—clean, harsh blows that wouldn't attract attention. A faint sound of bones breaking on the damp earth, and two more shadows trapped by the night.

He then took back the map—the real one was tied to the leader's belt; the fake, duly prepared, would remain there to be found. He opened it again, memorized the route and the confluence points where the three groups should reconnect. There were nearby references to "Moon Stream" and a "stone marker with a broken plaque"—both familiar places: Kael had passed those points when he escaped from prison and knew that near the stream there was a turnoff where the trail narrowed and vegetation covered almost everything.

The problem was time. If the assassins believed the false markings, they would send the group north, delaying them—perfect. But if anyone outside were more cautious and checked the trails carefully, it wouldn't take long to notice the change. Kael needed to use the map to ensure the troupe did the dirty work: open the siege, force the guardians to react, and, in the heat of combat, Irelia and the others might make a predictable move that he could intercept.

There was another advantage: the assassins had divided the contingent into three. Kael could manipulate one of them—the group from the valley, for example—into a route where he had already set a small trap. He didn't hold armies, but he knew how to use the location to his advantage. With his hands, he dug a small furrow next to an exposed root near his planned attack; there he would hide a rope entwined with wooden spears that could bring a man down if thrown correctly. It wasn't an immediate kill, but enough to break the formation and buy time.

As he did so, he heard voices in the distance: two assassins were passing, probably on patrol. Kael ran to the shelter of a tree trunk, took a deep breath, suppressing his fear. The proximity of danger acted like fuel. He simply observed—every gesture, every word held back—and memorized the voices. The troupe had been born from a larger network. That meant organization, and organization meant resources. Against this, he needed to be more cunning.

Done. He climbed back through the low canopy to the top of a moss-covered rise, where he could see a fork in the terrain: a parabola that connected the main trail to the valley shortcut. The sky above was a velvet cloth with spots of stars; the moon barely peeked through the clouds. The darkness helped.

He saw the first group move. They were disciplined, spread out, testing side trails. Kael followed silently, keeping a safe distance, waiting for the group from the valley to pass the point he had manipulated. His heart pounded—if the assassins discovered the leader's body there, they would change their plans. If they passed through the furrow, the rope would activate the spears Kael had lined up brick by brick.

When he heard the first scream—a bestial, desperate sound—he knew the trap had sprung. One man fell, another unconsciously pulled forward, and the siege broke cadence. Kael watched it like a conductor watching the beat obey an invisible baton. Taking advantage of the chaos, he slipped through the shadows, attacking two isolated guards with speed and brutality. The silence cut through the fear of what he was doing: it wasn't unnecessary bloodshed; it was clearing a path for the girls.

He grabbed one of the crossbows from one of the fallen men, adjusted the arrows so the torches' fiery wings wouldn't burn the trails he would leave. Then, with the real map now in his hands and some information about the groups' division in his head, he decided on his next move. The group from the valley would be pushed onto an alternate route; The one in the center was still following the main trail, the one most likely to cross paths with the guardians—and Kael couldn't be in both places. He needed a plan that didn't require him to be physically present in front of the girls: he had to manipulate the field so they had the advantage.

The answer came swiftly and brutally: make the assassins believe the princess had taken the northern trail, while the true trail would follow the valley, but trick bars and torn-out signs would lead the pursuers north. Thus, the guardians, true to their decision, could cross the valley without the burden of a central siege. Kael knew the witches—especially Sylphie, with her connection to the woods—would move more safely through the trees, less exposed. Irelia and Amelia were capable of destroying a column of mercenaries, but taking care of the princess was priority.

He scratched a small symbol on the map—an upturned branch—and stuck an unlit torch shaft next to it, so the men would find it, assume someone had marked the trail, and follow. Then, using the cloaks of the dead, he left false trails, footprints that led left, toward the main road. Every step was considered; every lie laid on the ground had a purpose.

When he finished, he looked back along the trail. The night swallowed up the movement, the troupe proceeded as expected, and the group in the valley swallowed the traps he had left. Kael felt a knot of relief and, at the same time, the pressure of knowing that at any moment something could go wrong. He couldn't afford to wait: he needed to run ahead and warn the guardians—and, if possible, create more obstacles along the way.

The run that followed was a controlled, subterranean trot. Kael left behind the place where he had killed and hidden bodies, the false trail, and followed the shadow of the valley, the map clutched close to his chest. Every twig that snapped seemed to hear his name. Ahead, the forest opened up to a narrow clearing where he knew the trail would narrow; there, if things went well, he could receive the girls. But Kael had no time to think about reconciliation; the urgency to save the one he loved—and not be the reason for their failure—took over every muscle.

The hunt, which had begun with the assassins following a route, had now turned into a board game where he moved invisible pieces.

The clearing stretched ahead, lit only by the faint glow of the moon that managed to break through the canopy. The terrain narrowed into a natural corridor, flanked by moss-covered rocks and wall-thick trees. To anyone passing by, it would have been just another suffocating stretch of forest—but Kael knew this was the key.

He crouched down, placing his palm against the damp ground. The scent of earth, wet moss, and rotting leaves filled his nostrils. His heart pounded, yet his mind worked with cold clarity.

"This is it… if I'm right, they'll pass through this valley. But if I'm wrong… if they chose another path…"

Doubt gnawed at him. He closed his eyes for a moment and could almost hear Irelia's voice muttering: "You never truly trust your instincts, Kael. That's why you live in the shadow of your own choices." Immediately afterward, he heard Amelia's sarcastic laugh: "Look, the great protector, indecisive again. Typical. Want to bet we can handle it ourselves?"

And finally, Sylphie's soft voice, calm as the forest itself: "Trust me... we're on the right path."

He opened his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Okay... I'll believe you."

He adjusted his sword at his side and began moving again. He knew he couldn't simply wait. The assassins were experienced hunters; if they detected any signs of deception, they could quickly resume their siege. So he needed to reinforce the lie, create more distractions.

Kael removed a small enchanted stone from his bag—an old gift from Exelia, which emitted a faint blue glow when pressed. He placed it on the trunk of a tree near the northern trail and scratched symbols on the ground, simulating signs of hurried passage. Anyone who saw it would believe it was tracking magic used by the guardians.

"That should keep them busy…" he murmured, his voice nearly swallowed by the wind.

He walked in silence through the narrow valley corridor. With every step, his mind struggled between two forces: fear and determination. The fear of being too late, of seeing the worst; the determination to fulfill his promise to protect them.

Time seemed to drag. He listened to the sounds of the forest as if they were codes: the distant caw of a crow, the rustle of leaves that weren't wind, the subtle snap of a twig breaking under human weight. And it was at that last sound that his entire body tensed.

They're here.

Kael hid behind an exposed root, controlling his breathing. A group of assassins emerged from the trail, much smaller than the original, perhaps six men, walking in tight formation. They looked like impatient hunters, following tracks deliberately left. Two of them pointed at the marks on the ground; another held a crossbow ready, eyes trained on the darkness.

Kael closed his eyes, thinking quickly.

"If I attack them, I risk revealing everything. But if I let them pass, they might end up crossing their path. I have to choose."

The leader of this group stopped and raised his hand, signaling silence.

"Fresh tracks," he said quietly. "They're close."

The men leaned forward, examining the ground, the false symbols.

"Natural magic… it was the mage Sylphie. There's no doubt about it."

Kael felt a weight in his chest. They believed it. Part of him felt relieved, but the other knew that if they continued along that route, they might turn around and surprise the guardians at some critical point.

The leader signaled, and the six began to advance faster.

"Shit… I can't let them." Kael bit his lip. "I have to slow them down, even if I have to be alone."

He moved slowly, parallel to the group, until he reached a narrow curve where the terrain sloped steeply downhill. There, loose roots and rocks could serve as a makeshift trap.

With quick movements, Kael pulled a thick branch and positioned it on the rocks, balancing it so that a push was all it took to send it rolling down the hill. He also adjusted some loose rocks, preparing everything for the right moment.

"Okay… I just need to wait for the first one to pass."

The footsteps approached. The leader was the first to enter the curve, eyes fixed on the ground. The second followed close behind, crossbow in hand. Kael held his breath, waiting… waiting…

At the right moment, he pushed hard on the branch. The trunk rolled down the hill, knocking rocks with it. The crash echoed through the forest, and two assassins were caught off guard, tumbling along with the makeshift avalanche. Their screams mingled with the dry crunch of bones against rocks.

"Ambush!" the leader shouted, raising his sword.

Kael leaped from the shadows, blade drawn. His attack was swift: a slash to the third's shoulder, followed by a kick that sent him crashing into the tree. The fourth tried to counter with his crossbow, but Kael dodged and struck him in the throat. The man fell, choking on blood.

The leader swung his sword at him.

"Who are you?!" Kael smiled, not answering. He simply let his cold gaze speak for itself.

The clash of blades filled the night. The leader was fast, but Kael had something more: desperation and purpose. His every strike wasn't just for defense—it was to buy time, to stop these men from reaching the girls.

"You don't stand a chance!" the leader shouted, trying to pressure him.

"I don't need a chance," Kael growled, his eyes burning. "I just need to slow you down."

The duel was fierce, and though Kael had the advantage of fury, his enemy was disciplined. The blade sliced shallowly into his arm, searing flesh. Blood flowed, but he didn't retreat. A twist, a counterattack, and he managed to rip open the leader's chest. The man staggered, still standing but weakened.

The two remaining survivors hesitated, seeing their comrades dead or fallen. Kael took advantage, plunging his sword into the leader's abdomen and pushing him to the ground.

Silence returned, broken only by Kael's heavy breathing. Blood dripped from his arm, hot, throbbing, but he ignored it. He wiped the blade on the enemy's cloak and looked around.

"This should delay the others… but not for long."

He looked up at the moon and murmured, almost like a promise:

"Hold on, girls. I'm coming."