Ayana followed Zelrine through a dimly lit passage, closely shadowed by two of her best fighters. The flickering torches barely flung any light on the bare walls of stone. A carpet of dirt muffled their footsteps as they rushed along the tunnel, sending motes of dust flying into the air.
"This will take us out of the valley," Zelrine said. "But we need to be careful. This tunnel is much older, and almost everyone in the base knows about it."
"Hmm," Ayana mumbled, the weight in her chest too heavy, too much to bear. Innumerable blades of hurt stabbed into her heart as Scarlett's crying face flashed before her eyes.
How was she going to live without her little girl?
She had to find Lucien. She needed him. As long as he was fine, she had no regrets. He was certainly out there, looking for her. When she reunited with him, they would leave Aria for good.
Their child was safe with Iezabel, of that she had no doubt. Scarlett did not have to share her fate. She would be away from Aria and all of its darkness. Maybe if she escaped the Empire's clutches someday, she might get to see her little one again.
Ayana jerked back to reality when she bumped into Zelrine.
A dark mass of stone blocked the path before them, a metal wheel protruding from the wall beside it.
"At last," Zelrine muttered. "It was farther than I thought."
"Turn back while you can, Zelrine," Ayana said. Enough people had gotten hurt because of her. She had already lost too much. "They will find me no matter what."
"I'm not abandoning you. I already promised Iezabel," Zelrine said. She gestured at the wheel. "Turn that, will you?" she asked her soldiers.
They inclined their head.
A grinding noise reverberated through the dark passage as they rotated the wheel. The wall before them slid into a hidden alcove, letting bright shafts of dawning sun pierce into the shadows.
Ayana stepped out onto the grass covered ground, her eyes sweeping the surroundings. They were nowhere near the fallen city. Before her stretched a great forest, giant birches and pines towering to the sky. Dead silence reigned the trees, not a living soul to be seen, nor a whispering breath to be heard.
"Where are we?"
"The Green Valley," Zelrine replied. "It lies adjacent to our hideout."
One of the rebel soldiers held up his hand in caution. "I saw someone." He motioned to his companion.
"What do you mean?" Zelrine asked, her fingers creeping to the hilt of her blade. "No one is supposed to know we're here."
A shiver crawled along Ayana's skin as the rebels stalked toward the dense foliage.
The boughs parted as if blown by a silent gust. A young man, barely out of adolescence, leaned against a great pine. Dark shoulder length hair framed his sharp features, and thick brows arched over his sea green eyes. He was unarmed, except for a small hunting knife strapped to his belt.
A mischievous grin spread across his face. "Going somewhere?"
One of Zelrine's men strode toward him, but as he reached for his sword, the youth pointed at his legs.
"Aburó verni."
A surprised grunt escaped the rebel's lips as he collapsed to the ground. "What did you do, you little mutt?"
A sorcerer! Ayana had never met a sorcerer this young. She stood frozen, heart racing and unable to move. They were no match for him. Strangely, the only emotion in her mind was relief—relief that her little Scarlett was far away, safe with Iezabel.
He ignored the fallen soldier and fixed his gaze on Ayana. "If you let me escort you to my mother, I will consider letting them go."
"Run, Lady Ayana!" Zelrine shouted.
She drew her blade and charged, just as her other soldier lunged for the kill.
"Quaró desci." The sorcerer waved his palm, as if swatting aside mere bugs.
Ayana heard a loud intake of breath as they met the rock-face with a sickening crunch and collapsed to the ground. She half expected them to jump back on their feet, but they did not.
What was happening?
Ayana stood rooted to the spot as he advanced.
"Who are you?"
The boy chuckled. "Wiser of me if I didn't tell you that."
He peered behind her, as if he was expecting someone else. A dramatic sigh of disappointment escaped his lips. "I was quite eager to meet your violent companion, the one who killed my vlarik. Well, not really mine, but who cares." He waved his hand. "Do you know how difficult it is to bend them to my will without her knowing?" He shook his head.
His mouth stopped rambling long enough for him to inspect her like a prized acquisition. "She warned me to be wary of you, though I don't see why," he said with a mocking grin. He held out his hand. "Now, will you come with me? Please? It is bad enough I had to come here myself to collect a mere human."
"You will never have me!" Ayana moved like lightning, burying the retrievable blade in her sleeve into his chest.
His eyes widened in shock, and his grin of amusement turned into a grimace of pain. He gasped, blood dripping from his mouth.
"Sturió hulfoven."
An invisible hand closed around her neck. She desperately clawed at the convulsing sorcerer, but to no avail.
I love you, my little Scarlett.
Her knees crumpled beneath her.
Stay safe.
Together, they collapsed to the ground.
I am sorry, Lucien.
A sad smile formed on her lips as cold darkness enveloped her in its embrace.