Vincent Charles adjusted his monocle, his expression cold yet composed. "Sad story indeed," he said, his tone devoid of sympathy, as though merely acknowledging a fact.
He leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping the hilt of his rapier. "Execution will commence once we reach the town," he added matter-of-factly, his gaze unwavering.
Aeron remained still, his eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window. His voice was low, resolute. "I'm not going to run anymore."
Vincent Charles raised a delicate porcelain cup to his lips, the intricate design glinting faintly in the dim lantern light. He took a measured sip of tea, savoring the warmth before setting it down with practiced elegance.
"Can you tell me," he began, his tone calm but probing, "why you murdered the local noble?"
Aeron's gaze fell to his feet, his voice steady but heavy with regret. "He was harassing my friend's wife... in front of him," he said, his hands loosely gripping the hilt of his sword.
Vincent Charles regarded him for a moment, the faintest hint of approval flickering across his features before it vanished. He straightened his posture, his voice carrying an air of finality.
"I respect that," he said simply. "But due to the law, your execution will happen."
Aeron lowered his head, the weight of his past and the inevitability of his fate pressing down on him. The silence between them grew heavy, the only sound the steady drum of rain against the carriage roof.
George Vincent Charles broke the tension, his voice smooth and deliberate. "I was talking to you because you're one interesting piece of a puzzle I want to solve... and then scramble."
Aeron lifted his gaze, meeting George's eyes with a faint flicker of curiosity. "I don't know if that's a threat or a compliment," he said with a small, dry smirk. "But thank you."
George gave a subtle smile, one that was hard to decipher. The conversation resumed, the two men speaking as if the specter of execution and past tragedies were momentarily forgotten.
Suddenly, a terrified shout pierced through the storm from the last carriage in the line.
"The monsters! They're attacking!"
The words sent a chill through the air, shattering the fragile calm within the carriage. Aeron's hand instinctively moved to his sword, his eyes narrowing as he glanced toward George. The rain now seemed to echo the urgency of the cry.
George Vincent Charles moved swiftly to the small inner window connecting the passenger cabin to the driver's seat. He tapped it sharply, his voice calm but commanding. "Driver, report!"
No response came. His brow furrowed in irritation, and he opened the carriage door, rain immediately pelting him as he leaned out, gripping the door handle tightly. His monocle caught the dim light as his gaze swept toward the driver's seat—and froze.
It was empty.
His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings before he turned back to Aeron, his tone clipped but composed. "Don't go out," he warned. "There are forty-six creatures as far as I can see."
Without hesitation, he stepped onto the carriage's narrow ledge and leapt toward the driver's seat. The rain lashed against him as he landed deftly, gripping the reins tightly to steady himself. The horses were panicking, their movements erratic as they threatened to overturn the entire vehicle.
"Steady! Easy now!" George called out, his hands firm on the reins as he tried to regain control. The storm roared around him, the lanterns swinging wildly, casting fleeting shadows of the monstrous figures approaching in the distance.
Aeron's grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white as he instinctively braced himself. His eyes darted to the rain-streaked window, his sharp gaze trying to pierce through the darkness to make sense of the chaos outside. Shadows of monstrous figures danced in the distance, their movements erratic and terrifying.
Meanwhile, George Vincent Charles wrestled with the reins, his usual composure cracking under the weight of the horses' panic. "Steady, damn it!" he shouted, his voice firm but edged with urgency. Yet, no amount of skill could calm the terrified animals.
The horses whinnied frantically, their eyes wide with fear as they suddenly veered off course. The carriage lurched violently, throwing Aeron sideways into the cabin wall.
Outside, George's monocle fell as he glanced ahead—his heart sinking. The cliff loomed closer, its jagged edge barely visible through the storm. He pulled hard on the reins, his boots digging into the wet platform, but the momentum was unstoppable.
Aeron barely had time to react before the carriage tilted dangerously. The weight of the turn threw him against the door. "George!" he shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the roaring wind and rain.
The horses, blinded by fear, charged forward—and the carriage plummeted over the edge. Time seemed to slow as the world tipped sideways, the lanterns extinguished in a final gust of wind before the carriage disappeared into the abyss below.
....
Aeron opened his eyes, his vision blurred and his body heavy with pain. The cold rain soaked his face as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Slowly, his gaze shifted, and he saw George Vincent Charles standing not far from him.
George's once-elegant attire was now in tatters, soaked in rain and streaked with blood. His movements were slow, deliberate, as he fended off the monstrous creatures with his rapier. Despite the storm raging around them and the beasts closing in, George stood tall, his resolve unshaken.
Aeron tried to move but winced sharply, the shard of glass lodged in his left leg sending waves of pain through his body. Groaning, he managed to prop himself up slightly, his voice weak as he called out, "George..."