Glimora's little feet pattered against the stone ground, echoing softly through the dark corridors. Her tiny breaths came out in quick, worried puffs, and her tail flicked anxiously behind her. The night was still, the moonlight spilling through cracks in the stone walls like liquid silver, guiding her way. She didn't stop. She couldn't. Her mama needed her to be fast.

And soon enough, she reached the place she had left Isabella.

The moment Isabella heard the familiar tap-tap-tap of Glimora's paws, she looked up quickly, her heart squeezing. She bent down just in time for Glimora to leap straight into her open arms, trembling softly.

"Oh, baby," Isabella murmured, a weak giggle escaping her lips as she pressed a kiss to the top of Glimora's head. "There you are."

Her smile was small but real — a fragile thing trying to hide the storm that had been inside her just moments ago. She had wiped her face, splashed her eyes with cool water from a nearby pot, even straightened her hair to look composed. But Glimora's worried gaze told her she hadn't fooled anyone.

"See?" Isabella whispered, petting the little creature's back gently. "Mama's fine. No more tears, alright?"

But before she could say another word, footsteps sounded from behind — heavier ones this time. Isabella looked up, blinking as two silhouettes stepped into view.

Ophelia and Valen.

Ophelia's hair was still a little messy from sleep, the ends tousled and brown, catching faint traces of moonlight that made it look softer than usual.

She looked adorably tired but still smiling as always, her warmth filling the space the moment she arrived. "Isabella!" she called softly, her voice carrying that natural sweetness that could melt even the hardest heart. She walked quickly toward her, her bare feet brushing against the dirt floor, her smile widening as she finally reached her.

"Goodness, Glimora practically dragged us out of bed!" Ophelia said, her tone light and teasing, though her brows creased in mild concern.

Isabella smiled — the kind of smile you give someone you love, even when your chest feels heavy. "I can tell," she said softly, her voice low and amused. Her eyes flicked past Ophelia to Valen, who stood a few paces behind her, arms crossed, his expression protective as ever.

"Valen," Isabella greeted, inclining her head politely.

"Isabella," he replied with a firm nod, his tone courteous but wary — the kind of man who never quite relaxed unless he was certain everything was fine.

Then Ophelia's gaze softened. "You… you've been crying, haven't you?" she asked gently.

Isabella's smile faltered for a heartbeat, then she shook her head quickly. "No. Just… thinking."

Ophelia didn't believe her — she never did when Isabella said things like that — but she let it go. "Then what is it? You look like you're about to tell me something serious."

Isabella sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face as Glimora nestled closer into her arms. "I'm going to a very special place," she said finally. "To find a cure for Shelia."

For a heartbeat, silence.

Ophelia's lips parted slightly. "What?"

Her smile faded, replaced by confusion — then worry. "Isabella, that's— that's wonderful, but why so suddenly? Are you even prepared? Is that place safe for you to go? I should come along"

Isabella shrugged lightly, forcing a smirk she didn't feel. "When have I ever cared about danger?"

Valen's deep voice cut through before Ophelia could respond. "Then I'm coming with you."

Isabella blinked. "What?"

Valen crossed his arms, his voice firm and absolute. "If she's going with you," he nodded toward Ophelia, "then I'm coming too. You'll need protection."

"Oh please," Isabella said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "I know you're in love with her, but we can have our own moments without you, can't we, Ophelia?"

Ophelia's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. "She's right, Valen," she teased lightly. "You don't have to come."

Valen's golden eyes narrowed. "No. If either of you are leaving the village at this hour, I'm coming."

His tone left no room for argument. He wasn't just being possessive — it was instinct. Beastmen never let their women walk alone in the night, not with all the dangers lurking beyond the borders.

Seeing the way he stood close to Ophelia, protective and gentle, something flickered in Isabella's chest. A faint ache — old, familiar. It reminded her too much of Cyrus. His voice, his warmth, the way he always hovered near her as if her safety meant more than his own.

Her throat tightened. She bit her lower lip hard enough to stop herself from trembling.

"Relax," she said at last, her voice light again but strained. "I won't be going with any of you. I'll be going alone."

Both Valen and Ophelia froze.

"Alone?" Ophelia echoed softly, her smile fading completely now.

"That's right," Isabella replied, adjusting Glimora in her arms as she avoided their stares.

Valen frowned deeply. "You can't. You can't just wander off without protection, Isabella. That's reckless, even for you."

The words hit something in her — not because of the tone, but because it sounded too much like someone else.

Cyrus had said almost the exact same thing once.

And the reminder made her heart twist painfully.

Ophelia, standing between them, glanced quickly at Valen, biting her lip in quiet disapproval, silently telling him, You shouldn't have said that.

Ophelia had expected Isabella to snap back, to scoff and roll her eyes at Valen's words the way she always did when someone tried to protect her. But instead, Isabella only smiled—softly, quietly, almost too calm.

"I've been to this place before," she said, her voice smooth, steady. "Many times, actually."

It was a lie. A clean, effortless lie, spoken with the kind of conviction only someone used to hiding pain could manage.

She had only been to the mountain once and barley knew that place in anyway. She did not know how dangerous it was. Yet there was no way she was telling them that.

Valen frowned, skeptical, but he couldn't tell. None of them could. Her tone carried too much confidence to doubt.