Jim and the princess emerged from the narrow gap, stepping cautiously into a dimly lit alleyway. The cold night air clung to them, thick with the scent of damp stone and the distant stench of blood. Their breaths came ragged, the weight of pursuit pressing against their ribs.
But they were not alone.
Looming shadows moved at either end of the alley, barring their escape. Swordsmen clad in green, white, and black stood poised, their blades gleaming ominously under the flickering torchlight. Once divided by their loyalties, now they were bound by a singular purpose—to let none escape. Their expressions were grim, eyes sharp with the promise of death.
“Stay behind me,” Jim commanded, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. He knew they were outmatched, outnumbered, and boxed in. B
