The Tower

Beyond The Castle Gardens

Cerise sighed. "This is all just a game to you, isn't it?"

Rolts smirked. "I've masqueraded as a prince, a passionate cartographer, and a shy, insecure aristocrat. Three aliases that are so far from the truth, yet elite society devoured them like a delectable dessert." He laughed. "I was right under your noses, and you suspected nothing."

"What happened to you was terrible, Rolts, but you cannot punish every one. That would be like getting a bad fish at the market and proceeding to kill every fisherman in your path. You cannot assume everyone is rotten to the core," said Doran. "From my experience, they certainly are not."

"Let's test that analogy, Doran," said Rolts. "If you found out a farmer set fire to the castle of Vesna, resulting in your family's brutal demise, would you kill every farmer you encounter after that?"

Doran went pale.

"Rolts, you disgust me," Cerise said through gritted teeth. 

Rolts slapped her hard across the face and grabbed Doran's collar, pulling him close. 

"Well? What would you do?" he asked. 

Doran wept a few tears, his lips trembling. 

"I answer for you," said Rolts. "You would look at every farmer, and somewhere deep inside, the memory would return. It would haunt you until you go crazy, preventing you from ever truly moving on. You only feel satisfaction by killing another, then another, to numb the pain. You cannot forgive or forget because you are trapped in endless misery."

Doran watched Cerise struggle to sit upright, grasping her right cheek that flared a bright red. He looked at Rolts, the young man completely consumed by rage.

"You're right. I would look at every farmer and remember what I lost," he said.

Rolts smiled. "Then you understand."

"No," said Doran. "Because each farmer I see is not the man who killed my family. They are guiltless, innocent, and irrelevant. When you are a slave to anger, Rolts, only then will you fabricate a reason for how they've wronged you. You are the threat, not them."

"Then I misjudged you."

Rolts kicked Doran to the ground, digging the toe of his boot into the young bard's chest. Doran wheezed, holding his throat as the laceration across his chest dripped blood. 

Doran looked up as Rolts cocked the rifle and aimed at his head. 

"Sweet dreams, runaway prince."

Cerise grabbed Rolts by the leg and tackled him to the ground. 

BANG!

A single bullet shot out of the barrel and hit the ceiling. 

Cerise wrestled the rifle out of Rolt's hands and threw it across the room. Rolts raised a fist to hit her, but Doran intervened and grabbed his forearm. Rolts pushed them both back and ran for the rifle.

Cerise grabbed the edge of the table and tipped it over. It came crashing down with a loud thump on the floor, a wooden barrier dividing the room. The fruit bowl shattered, sending its content bouncing in various directions.

"See a way out?" Doran asked.

Cerise screamed as a bullet passed through the table, inches from her face, and penetrated the wall. She looked through the gaping hole carved in the wood and saw Rolts jam the rifle.

"He's reloading. Let's go!" she said. 

Cerise grabbed Doran's hand as they sprinted towards the red door, pushing past Rolts, who tripped over a piece of the fallen fruit and hit the ground, the rifle releasing from his grip. 

The prince and princess raced down the spiral staircase, their breaths fluctuating and their hearts pounding.

BANG. BANG.

Rolts fired two bullets down at them, missing each one. He went to fire again, trained on Doran's back, but the gun jammed as he pulled the trigger. With a curse, he threw it to the ground and ran back inside the tower chamber. 

Doran and Cerise burst through the tower door and ran towards the garden maze, hands interlocked to guide each other through the black void of night. 

"Hurry!" Doran said. 

The cluster of white stars in the sky revealed the outline of the hedge maze in front of them. Doran looked back, the nefarious tower watching them with one glowing eye. He suddenly saw a shadow move in front of the window. 

"Cerise, go ahead of me!" he said.

She obeyed, taking over his lead.

The pair had nearly reached the edge of the maze when Doran suddenly heard a gut-wrenching whistle in the air.

"Cerise, wait-"

The tip of an arrow cut through the side of his neck and impaled Cerise in the back. She lurched forward with a gasp and crumpled to the ground.  

"No!"

Doran dove face-first onto the ground and crawled towards her. He grabbed Cerise's shoulder, spinning her around to reveal the arrowhead pushing out of her chest. Her eyes barely opened, her head rolling back and forth in his arms. Her lips quivered as she tried to speak, releasing only grunts and groans rather than words.

Doran cupped her face. "Stay with me. Cerise, stay with me!"

His tears streamed down her deadpan face.

Doran carefully picked her up and hurried through the maze, suffering through the jolts of pain resonating through his body. 

***

The Wandering Pixie

Hours After Midnight 

Doran burst through the tavern doors, limping forward in exhaustion with Cerise's body sprawled over his arms. 

Fae Fauna's head snapped up from her task behind the bar. She pulled out her rifle from under the counter and aimed it at his shadow. 

"Get out. We're closed!" she said.

Doran shuffled underneath the yellow light of a lantern and revealed his face.

Fae's eyes grew.

"Doran?"

"Help us," he said, tripping over his own foot. The floorboards creaked as he landed on the ground, Cerise rolling to a stop in front of him.

Fae dropped the rifle and ran towards them. She knelt next to Doran, tears in her eyes. 

"Help her," he said, extending a hand to point at Cerise. Fae glanced at the arrowhead lodged in her chest, then jumped up and ran around the bar and behind the red curtain. 

She emerged moments later carrying two green elixirs. She dropped to her knees beside Cerise and grabbed her wrist, feeling for a pulse.

"It's faint, but she's still with us," Fae said, popping open the cork of the first elixir with her teeth as she poured it over Cerise's wound. A chemical reaction ignited and severed the arrowhead from its body. Fae pushed Cerise onto her side and pulled the long stick from her back.

Doran watched in awe as the elixer bubbled and healed the injury, Cerise's eyes opening wide as she inhaled a sharp breath before passing out on the exhale. 

Fae crawled to Doran, pulled the cork off the second elixir and put her hand under his head. She lifted his mouth towards the rim of the glass, Doran parting his lips as Fae poured the liquid down his throat. 

When it absorbed into his body, Doran gasped as a surge of fresh air filled his lungs. The strength of his muscles was restored, the pain from his neck and chest gone as the skin started to knit itself back together over his lacerations. 

Fae sighed and wiped a layer of sweat from her forehead.

"You alright?"

Doran nodded, sitting upright. "Yeah. Thanks."

She slapped him across the face, then pulled him into a tight embrace. 

"Don't ever do that to me again," Fae said.

Doran smiled and stared into her eyes. "I'll try my best."

She grinned. "You better."

They held each other as the door of the tavern suddenly opened. 

"Hello?" said a voice.

Fae looked up. 

"We're closed-"

An arrow pierced her arm, digging into the flesh as she fell back against the floor.

Doran jumped up and turned to find Rolts standing in the doorway. He threw the crossbow onto the ground and lunged at him while gripping the kitchen knife. 

The young men latched onto one another and wrestled on the ground. 

"Did you really think you could escape?" Rolts spat, pushing the knife down with full strength.

Doran felt the tip of the blade touch his neck.

As Rolts went for the killing strike, the knife glowed bright green and slipped from his grasp. Alarmed, Rolts looked up, staring at Fae as she thrust her hand forward and slit his throat with the blade.

Rolts gagged, holding his neck as blood spilled over his hands. 

With a grunt, Doran kicked the young man back and watched him squirm on the floorboards, Rolts's eyes never leaving him until the life drained out of them.