Chapter 19

Arteja hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to stay and fight. Corliss had been her mentor, her guiding force through so many battles. Leaving her behind felt like a betrayal. But the glare in Corliss's eyes was unyielding, leaving no room for argument.

"Protect the nobles!" Corliss commanded, her voice sharp and resolute. "That's an order!"

Reluctantly, Arteja turned and ran, her hands gripping her spear so tightly her knuckles turned white. Lirael was close behind her, urging her on. Every step away felt like a weight dragging her down, but she forced herself to keep moving. Corliss was buying them time, and wasting it would dishonor her sacrifice.

The sound of clashing steel and Corliss's fierce battle cries faded as they reached the clearing where the nobles were waiting, their fear palpable. Arteja barely had time to catch her breath before Lady Varetha began to panic.

"Where's the warden leader? Where is Corliss?" Lady Varetha demanded, her voice shrill.

"She stayed to hold them off," Arteja replied curtly, her tone making it clear she had no patience for hysterics. "If we stop now, her sacrifice will mean nothing. We have to keep moving."

"But she—"

"Now!" Arteja snapped, her voice cutting through the chaos. She pointed to the open field ahead, her blue eyes blazing beneath her mask. "If you want to live, move!"

The group began to flee across the open terrain, their pace sluggish with exhaustion. Arteja scanned their surroundings, her senses on high alert. The attackers could still pursue them, and without Corliss, the wardens were stretched thin.

"What now?" Lirael asked, her voice strained, as they reached the edge of the woods and emerged into the open plains.

Arteja turned to the nobles, her posture stiff and unwavering. "We keep moving. We don't stop until we reach the nearest village. If they catch us out here, we'll have no cover."

Lady Varetha looked ready to argue, her face pale with fear, but Arteja's tone and the glint of determination in her eyes left no room for protest. The lady simply nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line, and followed the wardens' lead.

The journey across the open field was grueling. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape. Every rustle of the grass, every distant sound, made Arteja's heart race. She could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on her like never before. Protecting these people, ensuring their survival, was now her duty.

"Arteja," Lirael said softly, falling into step beside her. "You did the right thing, you know. Corliss made her choice."

"I know," Arteja replied, her voice quiet but firm. But even as she said the words, doubt gnawed at her. Could she have done more? Could they have fought together and survived?

The group pressed on until they reached the edge of a small village nestled in a valley. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the faint sound of livestock carried on the breeze. Relief washed over the group at the sight of safety.

As they approached, Arteja turned to the others. "Get inside and find shelter. Lirael and I will keep watch until we're certain no one followed us."

The nobles hurried into the village, their fatigue and fear evident. Arteja stood at the edge of the valley, her spear resting against her shoulder, and gazed back at the distant treeline.

"Do you think Corliss will make it?" Lirael asked, her voice hesitant.

Arteja didn't answer right away. She stared at the dark woods, her thoughts heavy. Finally, she said, "If anyone can survive, it's her. But until we know for sure, we have to stay strong. That's what she would want."

Lirael nodded, her expression somber.

Arteja tightened her grip on her spear, her resolve hardening. Corliss had made her choice, and now Arteja had to honor it. But she swore to herself that if there was any chance Corliss was alive, she would find her.

The fight wasn't over—not by a long shot. And Arteja would be ready for whatever came next.