The night was restless long before the storm reached its peak.

  Wind moved through the forest in uneasy currents, bending branches and stirring leaves in low, whispering waves that never seemed to settle. Dark clouds pressed heavily across the sky, swallowing what little moonlight tried to break through. Every so often, thunder rolled in the distance — not sharp, but deep and forewarning, like something vast shifting beyond sight.

  Through that darkness, a lone figure ran.

  Her steps were uneven, boots slipping against wet roots as she pushed through the narrow forest path. Branches tore at her sleeves, leaving thin scratches across her arms, but she did not slow. The child clutched tightly against her chest and was wrapped in layered cloth, shielded beneath her cloak from the biting night wind.

  Her breathing came in shallow bursts.

  “Please… stay quiet… little one…” she whispered, voice trembling as much from fear as from exhaustion.

  The baby stirred faintly but did not cry. His small face remained calm, eyes closed, as though he did not sense the danger pressing in from all sides.

  Behind her, the forest answered with movement.

  Footsteps.

  Not one.

  Many.

  They did not shout. They did not rush carelessly. The men chasing her moved with practiced silence, their shadows slipping between the trees whenever lightning cracked across the sky. For brief flashes, steel caught the light — blades drawn, ready.

  Assassins.

  The woman forced her aching legs to move faster.

  Minutes earlier, she had been somewhere far different from the forest’s cold breath.

  The chamber had been dim, lit only by a single wavering lamp placed near the far wall. Wind pushed hard against the tall windows, forcing the curtains to lash inward like restless ghosts. Shadows filled the corners of the room, swallowing detail.

  A tall cloaked figure stood near the window, turned partly away.

  The maid had knelt before her, head bowed so low her forehead nearly touched the floor.

  “My lady…” she had whispered, her voice unsteady.

  For several moments, the cloaked figure did not answer. Only thunder spoke — rolling across the sky beyond the walls.

  Then the figure stepped forward slowly.

  A pale hand emerged from the folds of the cloak, cradling a small baby wrapped in silk. The maid’s breath caught as she looked up.

  The child slept peacefully, unaware of the storm both outside and within the room.

  The cloaked hand trembled slightly as it extended the infant.

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  “Take him…” the voice came at last — soft, strained, breaking beneath controlled composure.

  The maid stared, stunned.

  “My lady… I—”

  “Go.” The word came firmer this time, though grief threaded through it. “Take him far from here. Do not stop. Do not trust anyone.”

  A tear slipped from beneath the shadowed hood, falling gently onto the baby’s forehead.

  The maid hesitated, fear warring with duty.

  “My lady… what about you?”

  Silence answered her.

  Only thunder.

  Then the cloaked figure placed the child into her arms with careful finality.

  “His life matters more than mine.”

  The maid’s vision blurred with tears as she bowed deeply.

  “I swear… I will protect him.”

  The cloaked figure leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss against the child’s head.

  Lightning flashed outside, flooding the chamber in white light for a heartbeat.

  In that instant, the maid thought she saw faint sparks flicker along the baby’s blanket…

  …but darkness returned before she could be sure.

  “Go,” the cloaked voice whispered.

  And the maid ran.

  Now she pushed through the forest, lungs burning as the river’s distant roar reached her ears.

  The child had grown colder despite her efforts to shield him. She pulled her cloak tighter around him, ignoring the sting of rain beginning to fall in scattered drops.

  Behind her, voices cut through the wind.

  “Spread out.”

  “She’s heading toward the water.”

  “Don’t let the child escape.”

  Her heart clenched painfully.

  They were not chasing her.

  They were chasing the baby.

  She broke through the last line of trees and stumbled onto the riverbank.

  The Velmora’s waters surged dark and fast beneath the storm sky. No bridges crossed this stretch. No boats rested along the shore — only the relentless current rushing toward lands far beyond.

  Her breath shook.

  Footsteps cracked branches behind her.

  Time was gone.

  Near the water’s edge lay a small wooden cradle boat — the kind villagers used during festivals to send offerings downstream with candles and prayers.

  Her hands trembled as she dragged it closer.

  “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” she whispered, voice breaking.

  The child opened his eyes for the first time.

  Silver.

  Bright even against the storm-dark sky.

  Thunder roared overhead as though answering that gaze.

  She swallowed hard, wrapping the silk tighter around him before reaching into her robe. From within, she drew a small pendant — half of a crest marked by a jagged lightning symbol.

  She tied it gently around his neck.

  “So one day… you will know who you are…”

  The baby’s tiny fingers curled around hers.

  She froze.

  Tears spilled freely now.

  “I wish… I could stay with you…”

  Branches snapped behind her.

  Closer.

  She laid him inside the cradle and pushed it into the river.

  At first it rocked near the shore…

  Then the current claimed it.

  Slowly, the small vessel drifted away from her reach.

  She stepped into the water instinctively, as if she could hold it longer — but the river pulled it farther with each heartbeat.

  Lightning split the sky, turning the river silver for a single blinding moment.

  The child’s eyes reflected that light.

  Then darkness returned.

  The cradle drifted farther…

  Farther…

  Until it became only a shadow on black water.

  “THERE!”

  Voices shouted behind her.

  She turned.

  Assassins emerged from the treeline, blades drawn, faces hidden beneath dark cloth.

  One pointed toward the river.

  “The child—!”

  Before he finished, she stepped forward, placing herself between them and the water.

  Her fear had burned away.

  Only resolve remained.

  “You will not touch him.”

  Steel rang as she drew the dagger hidden at her waist.

  She was no warrior.

  But she did not move aside.

  Behind her, the river carried the child deeper into the storm.

  Thunder roared once more — louder than before.

  Far downstream, beyond the forest… beyond the borders of the land he had been born into…

  The storm began to quiet.

  Clouds parted just enough for moonlight to brush the water’s surface.

  The cradle drifted gently now, rocked by calmer currents.

  The child slept peacefully once more, as though the river itself guarded him.

  The pendant at his neck glowed faintly for a single heartbeat… then dimmed.

  The current carried him onward — toward another kingdom, another name, another life.

  The storm had lost its child.

  But the storm had not disappeared.

  It was only waiting…

  …for the day it would return.