The Fallen Princess

Ten

“Tell me everything,” Zaria urged, drawing each of the little princesses into her arms in turn, pressing soft kisses to their cheeks as they launched into breathless recaps of the day. Their tiny voices overlapped in excited bursts.

Shrill laughter, half-sung complaints, dramatic hand gestures that made their braids whip and sway and Zaria found herself smiling too easily, as if joy could still reach her through exhaustion and bruises if it tried hard enough.

They played games, of course. There was a boy who tried to juggle rocks and nearly brained himself. A woman who braided everyone’s hair differently and declared each style the best one, like the world hadn’t cracked open and children could still be children if they decided hard enough.

Zaria laughed and tried to keep up with the whirlwind, but somewhere between the third retelling and the fourth dramatic reenactment she caught what wasn’t being said. They weren’t afraid. Not of the camp. Not of the men standing watch. Not of the quiet truth behind the armor: dragons.

The realization settled in her chest in an odd, weighted way. Not quite comfort and not quite suspicion, something in between. “And,” one of the girls added, bouncing on her knees like it was the best part, “a guard gave us extra bread.”

Zaria stilled. “A guard?” The child nodded hard enough her braids swung. “He pretended it was an order,” she explained solemnly, puffing up her small chest. “‘Eat. That’s what you’re supposed to do.’” Her imitation was terrible and perfect at once.

“But he smiled, and he gave Anya the bigger piece.” The youngest chimed in at once, breathless. “And he brought a blanket! He tucked it around us and told us the night gets cold.” Zaria’s throat tightened.

She drew them closer without thinking, arms curling around them like a shield she wished could stretch backward in time.

“Did he scare you?” she asked softly, watching their faces. Three heads shook in unison. “No,” the youngest whispered. “He was… nice.” The word sat there, small and stubborn, as if kindness had no right to exist in a place like this and had shown up anyway.

Eventually the flurry of conversation tapered off. The girls darted away to the edge of the woods to chase fireflies, laughter trailing behind them like bright thread.

Left alone in the grass, Zaria sank beside Zakai with a slow exhale and brushed dirt from her knees, the small motion grounding in a way she hadn’t expected. “How have they been treating you?” she asked.

Zakai settled down beside her, gaze sweeping the clearing, the watchful men, the fires, the quiet order in the way tents and wagons had been arranged. “Honestly? There isn’t much to tell.”

His eyes dropped to her new uniform: the plain tunic, the mended pants. His brow furrowed.

“What happened to your dress?” “It was dirty,” she shrugged, attempting casual. Zakai’s expression tightened. “Did the prince—” “No.” The word cut out sharp, too fast. Zaria held his gaze until the worst of his imagination stalled.

“It’s not what you’re thinking. He keeps his distance. He… treats me well.” Zakai studied her face like he was searching for fractures. For the subtle wince of someone hiding pain, for the shadow of fear behind brave words. Whatever he found, or didn’t, eased him a fraction.

“I’ve listened to the Dragon Knights whispering,” he murmured, lowering his voice even though they were out of easy earshot. “So far, there is no sign we’re being dragged to our deaths… or that we’re going to be made slaves.” Zaria exhaled, half relief, half disbelief.

Zakai’s gaze held hers for a long moment, like he was waiting to see if she’d allow herself to believe it. “Honestly? This might be our best chance at living something close to a normal life.”

“You think we should stay?” she asked, quieter now. “For now.” Zakai’s eyes stayed on the perimeter, on the way guards watched the tree line. “We have no choice but to see where this leads.”

Before Zaria could answer, Zakai’s head snapped sharply toward the woods. His entire body went still, then coiled. “Girls,” he barked, already rising to his feet. His hand shot out and yanked Zaria upright beside him. “Come here. Now!”

Zaria followed his line of sight into the dark. At first she saw nothing, just shadows and drifting sparks of fireflies, floating like embers that had lost their way. Then the shadows moved wrong. A Dragon Knight’s shout cleaved the calm. “Wolves! Get to the wagons!”

The girls sprinted toward Zaria, terror suddenly etched onto their tiny faces. Zaria waved frantically, urging them on, arms wide, heart lurching as if it could drag them closer by force.

A massive wolf burst from the tree line—fur bristled, muscles bunched, jaws open—and the cold that climbed Zaria’s spine was the kind of fear that lived in memory.

The eldest sister made the mistake of glancing back. Her eyes widened. With a gasp, she shoved her two younger siblings forward with all the strength her small body had.

Then the wolf lunged. Its jaws clamped around the girl’s leg. Her scream tore through the night as the beast dragged her into the darkness.

“ANYA!” Zaria screamed, voice shredding. She bolted after her on instinct. Zakai slammed into Zaria, tackling her hard enough to steal her breath, pinning her down long enough to stop her. For a heartbeat it felt like betrayal, until she saw his eyes. Command. Terror. Love.

“Zaria. No.” He forced it out, then surged up and vanished into the trees, charging headlong into the woods like fury could bargain with death. The two youngest girls collapsed into Zaria’s arms, sobbing violently.

She gathered them to her chest, whispering nonsense meant only to soothe, meant only to keep their panic from turning into a second predator. Their small hands fisted her shirt, desperate and trembling.

A Dragon Knight rushed to them, scooping both children; one tucked under each arm. He pushed Zaria firmly toward the wagons, urgency in every movement. Zaria resisted, eyes locked on the forest. “Has someone gone after my brother?” she demanded.

“They’re arranging a search party now,” the knight answered, voice tight. Too late, Zaria thought. Wolves moved faster than men. Much faster. Before the knight could blink, Zaria tore away and sprinted straight into the trees. “Wait!” he shouted, giving chase. “Those woods are haunted!”

Zaria barely heard him. She veered abruptly right, weaving between trunks. The knight stumbled, unable to keep up, and Zaria vanished into the forest. The deeper she ran, the darker it became.

The flicker of campfire light thinned, then disappeared, until there was nothing left but black branches clawing at the sky and her own breath tearing in and out of her chest. Zaria stopped abruptly, chest heaving, pulse thunderous in her ears.

Her hands trembled, slick with sweat and dirt. She closed her eyes. Listen. Please. Just breathe. “Please,” she whispered into the darkness. “Please… let me find them.” A soft glow flickered to life in front of her. An orb of pale blue-white light, floating just above the ground.

Zaria’s breath caught. “A will o’ the wisp,” she breathed. She reached out, and the glowing sphere darted forward, always just out of reach. Zaria pushed off the nearest tree and followed, dodging branches, leaping roots and fallen logs, her breath ragged.

Her mother’s voice rose in memory, steady and warning: Do not trust the wisps, little one. They lead lost souls deeper into danger. But Zaria ran anyway, because danger had already taken what it wanted, and caution had already failed.

“Please… lead me to my brother,” she begged breathlessly. The light stopped abruptly. Zaria couldn’t halt in time and lunged straight into it. The wisp blinked out. “Damn it,” she hissed, doubling over to catch her breath, hands braced on her knees as her lungs burned.

Then she heard it. A soft, broken sob. “Zakai?” Her voice cracked on his name. She sprinted toward the sound and found him slumped against a tree, arms wrapped around Anya’s limp body. Her sister’s lower leg was simply… gone.

Blood drenched the soil. The stump was a mangled ruin. Zakai’s hands shook, bloodied and trembling, as if his body didn’t believe what it had been forced to do. Zaria dropped to her knees beside them.

The world narrowed until there was only breath and blood and the small, terrible weight of a child gone slack. “I couldn’t save it…” Zakai whispered hoarsely, staring at the mangled limb. Zaria swallowed panic so hard it hurt. There was no room for it.

“Your belt,” she snapped. “What?” She didn’t wait. She lunged forward, ripped the belt from around his waist, and wrapped it around Anya’s thigh just above the knee. “Hold her tight.” Zakai obeyed, breath ragged.

Anya screamed as Zaria pulled the belt tight. The sound sliced straight through her chest. Her fingers fumbled once, then forced the knot to obey, trembling hands turning desperate into deliberate.

“Can you knock her out?” she asked, voice breaking around the need. Zakai stared at her, wild-eyed. “What? No! I can’t—” “Never mind,” she muttered, focusing on the knot. Anya’s cries faded into faint, exhausted moans.

She stood, wiping blood on her shirt, smearing red streaks across white fabric. Her heart hammered, loud enough to drown out the forest. “We have to go,” she breathed. “Do you know the way out?” Zakai asked, straining to lift Anya.

“No.” Dread twisted tight in Zaria’s stomach. “I could use my light… maybe follow the trail of blood—” “That could work,” Zakai answered, voice tight, “or lead us straight to the wolves.”

“Right.” Zaria scanned the forest floor.

“My footprints—” She stopped herself, looking down at the leaf litter and shadow. “Impossible.”

Zakai swallowed hard. “Then how did you find us?” Zaria hesitated, hating the answer and needing it anyway. “A will o’ the wisp.”

Zakai glared. “Be realistic, Zaria.” “I am being serious,” she snapped, voice fraying. “Why would I lie?” He held her gaze for a long moment, then exhaled like surrender. “Alright. I believe you.”

Zaria’s breath hitched, relief and fear twisting together.

“Perhaps it’s best we stay put,” Zakai suggested quietly, shifting Anya with careful hands. “She… she won’t make it if we keep wandering.” “She won’t make it if we do nothing,” Zaria whispered, throat tight. Zakai opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. His head jerked up. He listened.

“What is it?” Zaria whispered. “Someone’s coming,” he murmured. “Move.” Zaria obeyed instantly. They pushed through the brush, moving carefully with Anya in Zakai’s arms. Voices drifted through the forest, shouts and orders, boots crushing undergrowth.

“Head fifty paces east, then circle back!” Zaria’s knees nearly buckled with relief. Her hand flew to her mouth, fingers trembling. “They came for us…” “Stay close,” Zakai urged, managing a weak but hopeful smile.

She followed him through the overgrowth, heart pounding, and then she saw it, far ahead between the trees: Another orb of light. Blue-white. Soft. Familiar. “Zakai,” she gasped, grabbing his arm. “Look!” “What is—” The light blinked out. And suddenly… Zaria was alone.

The forest around her warped. Sound muffled. The world shrank to shadow, breath, and cold scraping her lungs. A voice growled beside her ear, deep enough to vibrate in her ribs: “There can be no light in the darkness. Out, elf.”

Cold breath grazed her skin. Zaria whirled toward the sound, nothing. Only darkness pressing in.

A c***k split the air, sharp and violent. Her ears rang. Her vision blurred. Darkness slammed into her like a physical force, and Princess Zaria fell.