Back in Luminarin, Determined to uncover the truth, Starlet and Alexandra crept closer, their breaths shallow as they crouched behind a towering oak. The scene before them sent shivers down their spines.
A cloaked figure hovered above the cowering villagers, her dark robes billowing in an unseen wind. Glowing green eyes pierced the night, and her voice—cold, sharp, and laced with malice—cut through the terrified silence.
"No one can save you from me," the witch declared, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "You are all mine—my slaves!"
A wave of despair rippled through the crowd. Mothers clutched their children, men exchanged helpless glances, and a few sobbed openly. The witch fed on their fear, letting out a cruel, echoing laugh before her voice turned even more venomous.
"Not even your two precious princesses—the ones destined to save you—can stand against me. I will find them… and I will kill them."
A cold dread tightened around Starlet and Alexandra's chests. Their fingers dug into the damp earth as they exchanged a look—one of shock, fear… and understanding.
The witch was talking about them.
Their faces—their very existence—had been revealed in the enchanted book.
And now, death had come looking for them.
Starlet's heart pounded like a war drum. Without a word, she grabbed Alexandra's wrist, and together they bolted, their feet barely touching the ground as they ducked behind a massive rock. Their chests rose and fell in frantic gasps, the cold night air doing little to steady the storm raging inside them.
The witch's words still echoed in their minds. She knows about us. She's looking for us.
Alexandra pressed a trembling hand to her lips, trying to suppress her ragged breaths. "What do we do?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rush of blood in her ears.
Starlet shook her head, forcing herself to think, to come up with a plan. But before they could act, a voice shattered the tense silence.
"Our princesses are here!"
The words rang out like a bell of hope, and suddenly, the fearful murmurs of the villagers transformed into shouts of joy.
"They have come to save us!" another voice cried.
"They will defeat you, witch!"
A wave of relief and newfound courage swept through the villagers. Some stood taller, others clung to each other, eyes shining with belief. The energy in the air shifted—fear melting away, replaced by something stronger.
Hope.
But it only fueled the witch's fury.
She whirled around, her tattered cloak snapping like a viper's strike. Her glowing eyes, once filled with dark amusement, now burned with unbridled rage. The smile that curled her lips was anything but kind.
"So…" Her voice was low, a venomous whisper that sent chills crawling up their spines. "You finally show yourselves."
The ground beneath them trembled as a gust of unnatural wind whipped through the village. Shadows stretched and twisted, drawn toward the witch as she raised a skeletal hand. Power crackled at her fingertips like lightning waiting to strike.
Starlet and Alexandra pressed their backs against the cold stone, their pulses pounding in unison. The time for hiding was over.
The witch had found them.
And she was ready to destroy them.
Meanwhile, deep within the castle, Royal Commander David Zechariah strode purposefully through the dimly lit corridors, his heavy boots echoing against the stone floors. His destination was clear—the princesses' chamber.
Without hesitation, he pushed open the grand doors and stepped inside. The room was untouched, save for the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. His sharp eyes scanned the space until they landed on his prize—the enchanted book.
He reached for It, his fingers brushing against the ancient leather cover. It was heavier than he expected, humming with an energy that sent a shiver up his spine. Without a second thought, he tucked it under his arm and turned on his heel, marching straight to his warriors.
"We need those magical creatures," he commanded, his voice like steel. "Go to the prison and bring them to me. Now."
His soldiers bowed and hurried off, their armor clinking as they disappeared into the night.
Meanwhile, David Zechariah studied the book, turning it over and over in his hands. But something was wrong.
His brows furrowed. There were no words. No ancient scripts. No glowing letters.
Nothing.
The book was completely blank.
A deep scowl crossed his face. What kind of magic is this?
Before he could dwell on it further, a breathless messenger burst into the room, his face pale as though he had seen a ghost.
"Commander!" The soldier knelt, his voice trembling. "The magical creatures… they're gone! The prison is empty!"
David Zechariah's grip on the book tightened. His jaw clenched.
"Escaped?" His voice was dangerously quiet.
The soldier nodded, his head lowered in shame.
David Zechariah shot to his feet, his piercing gaze sweeping across the room. Without wasting another second, he grabbed his sword and turned to his warriors.
"We find them," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. "Now."
The warriors moved as one, their determination matching the fire in his eyes.
The hunt had begun.
As David Zechariah stormed down the corridor with his warriors in tow, his mind raced. His grip tightened around the enchanted book, his knuckles turning white.
How did those creatures escape?
His soldiers were well-trained, the prison heavily fortified, and most importantly—those creatures had been bound by a magical restraint. A bandage woven with ancient spells, impossible to break unless someone deliberately removed it.
But who would dare?
His jaw clenched, his thoughts spiraling. The princesses? No, they had been preoccupied. The villagers? Impossible—they feared magic too much to interfere.
Which left only one answer.
Someone on the inside, who knows to yield magic. But who knows to yield magic?
David Zechariah's eyes darkened. Treachery was at play, and he intended to find out who had betrayed the kingdom.
The hunt was no longer just for the escaped creatures.
Now, he was hunting a traitor.