Chapter 980

At the beginning of the night, Viola and Luna were still moving.

They had barely stopped to take a proper break since escaping the capital the night before. Rest had become something measured in stolen minutes, not hours. A few breaths behind a ridge. A short pause beneath dead trees. Enough time to drink, check wounds, and keep moving before fear or pursuit caught up with them.

The road behind them was no longer a road. It was a threat.

Every dark hill looked like it could hide riders. Every distant sound made Luna turn her head. Every flicker of mana in the air made Viola’s fingers tighten around her staff until her knuckles turned pale.

Silva carried Lord Torvares on his back. The direwolf was the only one among them who looked even close to fine.

His massive paws moved over the ground with tireless rhythm, each step quiet despite his size. Silver-gray fur rippled under the night wind. His eyes remained sharp, ears shifting constantly as he tracked sounds the others couldn’t even hear. He had been running, carrying, guarding, and guiding since the escape, and somehow he still looked like he could continue for another day without complaint.

That was comforting. A little. Not enough.

Viola ran beside him, one hand often resting against her grandfather’s arm to keep him steady even though Silva’s broad back held him well enough. Lord Torvares was tied in place with strips of cloth and leather, positioned carefully so he wouldn’t slip if Silva had to move quickly.

He looked terrible. Worse than terrible. He looked like someone death had grabbed by the throat and simply hadn’t pulled hard enough yet. Whenever Viola had enough mana, she used Healing Touch on him.

No calculation beyond whether she had enough left to keep walking afterward. Her palm would glow faintly, warm restorative mana spreading into Torvares’s body as she focused everything she had on the wound near his neck and the poison still eating at him from within.

The magic helped. It had to. She told herself that every time.

The wound stayed controlled. His breathing hadn’t stopped. The rot had not taken him completely. But he wasn’t waking up. That fact pressed on her harder with every passing hour.

His eyes remained shut. His face slack. His body too still except for the faint rise and fall of his chest. And now the veins around his neck had darkened, branching beneath the skin in ugly lines that looked almost black under the pale moonlight.

The sight made Viola’s stomach twist. His skin had gone pale. Not just tired pale. Not old-man-after-battle pale. Ghost pale. As if the life had been drained from him slowly and all that remained was a stubborn body refusing to admit the obvious.

Viola’s hand shook the first time she noticed the veins had spread farther. Then again the second time. Now she shook every time she looked at them. She hated that. Hated the weakness of it.

Hated how her fingers trembled before she could stop them. Hated the way her breath caught whenever Silva shifted and her grandfather’s head moved slightly, making her think for one painful second that he might be waking.

He never did. Luna noticed, of course.

“You need to conserve mana in case his condition worsens all of a sudden and you have to stabilize him,” she said quietly, moving a few steps ahead with her blade drawn low.

Viola didn’t look at her. “I know.”

“You’re almost empty.”

“I know.”

“Viola…”

This time, Viola’s voice sharpened. “I know.”

Silence followed. Not angry. Not really. Just strained. The kind of silence born from too much fear and not enough sleep.

Viola swallowed and forced herself to loosen her grip on her staff. Her hand still trembled, so she curled it into a fist until the shaking stopped.

For a moment, only the sound of their movement filled the night.

Silva’s steady steps. Luna’s light footfalls. Viola’s rough breathing. Torvares’s faint, fragile breaths. That last sound was the one Viola listened to most. Every few seconds, without meaning to, she checked again.

Still breathing. Still alive. Still there. Barely. Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. Crying was for when something was over.

This wasn’t over. Not yet.

Not while her grandfather was still breathing. Not while Ludger had thrown them out of the capital with the clear expectation that they would survive. Not while Aronia was somewhere ahead, maybe close enough to matter, maybe too far, maybe… No.

Viola cut the thought apart before it could finish.

Luna slowed slightly until she was walking beside her again.

“We’ll find help,” she said.

Viola stared at the dark road ahead.

“I know.”

This time, her voice was quieter. Less sharp. Less certain. Silva’s ears twitched, and the direwolf glanced back once, pale eyes settling briefly on Viola before turning forward again. Even that felt like a warning.

Keep moving. So they did. Through the cold beginning of night, with the capital behind them and Lionfang somewhere far ahead, Viola walked beside the wounded man who had raised her into steel.

Luna watched Viola from the corner of her eye. Her friend was trying to remain calm. Trying very hard. Too hard, maybe.

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Viola’s face had settled into that stiff, noble mask she wore whenever fear tried to crawl too close to the surface. Chin slightly raised. Eyes forward. Shoulders straight despite the exhaustion dragging at her with every step.

It would have worked better if her hands weren’t shaking. Not constantly. Not enough that someone careless would notice. But Luna noticed.

Viola’s fingers trembled every time Silva shifted and Lord Torvares’s head moved. Every time she glanced at the black veins spreading along his neck. Every time she reached for Healing Touch and found barely enough mana to produce a weak glow from her palm.

She was holding herself together with pride, discipline, and the fragile belief that reaching Lionfang would still mean something. Luna hated how thin that belief looked right now. They were running out of time. Not only because of Torvares. Because of everything.

The capital behind them. The enemies spreading out from it. Lionfang ahead. The armies already moving. The roads that might not be roads anymore by the time they reached them.

Luna slowed just enough to walk beside Viola, though her eyes kept scanning the dark fields and broken tree lines around them.

“We’re halfway there,” Luna said.

Viola blinked once, as if she had been pulled back from somewhere unpleasant.

“Already?”

“We’ve been moving fast.”

That was an understatement.

They had been pushing too hard, but there had been no better option. Silva had carried the heaviest burden, and even then Luna could feel the strain in the group. Viola was exhausted. Luna’s legs burned. Lord Torvares was fading. And Silva, for all his monstrous endurance, could not solve everything by being large and terrifying.

Luna glanced toward the distant north.

“But reaching the area isn’t enough.”

Viola’s gaze sharpened slightly.

Luna continued, voice low. “We need a plan to get into Lionfang without being noticed.”

A pause.

“Or at least without being killed before anyone realizes who we are.”

Viola’s mouth tightened.

“And in the middle of a battle,” Luna added.

Viola nodded slowly.

She looked forward again, forcing her mind to move despite the fear clawing at it. Luna could almost see the shift happen, the panic pushed aside, the Torvares heir dragging herself back into strategy because breaking down would not save anyone.

“The tunnels are gone,” Viola said after a moment.

“Most of them.”

“All routes to the Empire were collapsed. If the enemy had enough time and coordination to do that, then even if some parts are still intact…” She shook her head. “Using them would be stupid.”

Luna nodded.

“Traps.”

“Exactly.”

The word came out sharper than Viola probably intended. But she kept going.

“They know we might try to return. If any tunnel remains usable, it might be because they want it usable.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed. “A funnel.”

“Or a grave.”

Silva gave a low rumble at that, as if agreeing. Viola placed one hand briefly on her grandfather’s leg, checking his position without looking. Her fingers trembled again when she touched him, but her voice stayed controlled.

“We can’t risk taking him underground and getting sealed in. Not with his condition.”

“No,” Luna said. “We can’t.”

The darkness ahead stretched long and cold. Somewhere beyond it, Lionfang was preparing to endure an army. Or several.

Viola drew in a careful breath.

“Then our best option might be the chaos.”

Luna glanced at her. Viola’s eyes had gone distant now, not unfocused, but measuring.

“If the battle has already started, the enemy lines won’t be clean everywhere. There will be movement. Reinforcements shifting. Wounded being pulled back. Units rotating.” She swallowed. “If we can find the weakest point…”

“We fight through.”

“At least enough to reach the wall.”

Luna considered it. Dangerous. Messy. Very likely to go wrong. Which still made it better than walking into a tunnel the enemy might have prepared specifically for them.

“Not the center. Not anywhere with proper imperial banners. We avoid organized soldiers if possible.” Her voice steadied as she spoke. “Mercenaries, adventurers, underworld groups, irregulars, those are more likely to have gaps. Less discipline. More confusion if hit suddenly.”

Luna gave a faint, humorless smile. “So we look for the cowards and criminals.”

“We look for whoever breaks fastest.”

“Same thing, usually.”

For half a second, Viola almost smiled. Almost. Then her gaze returned to Torvares, and the expression died before it could form. Luna looked away first. Not because she didn’t care. Because if she kept looking, she might say something useless.

They moved in silence for several more steps. Then Luna spoke again.

“We’ll need a signal once we’re close.”

Viola nodded. “Silva.”

The direwolf’s ears twitched.

“He can howl,” Viola said. “Lionsguard will recognize him.”

“So will the enemy.”

“Yes.” Viola’s expression hardened. “Which means we only do it after we’ve already committed.”

Luna liked that answer. It was reckless, but not stupid. There was a difference.

She adjusted her grip on her blade that she made using a bit of earth magic and looked ahead into the dark.

“Then we find the weakest part of the enemy line, break through fast, signal the wall, and pray they open a path before every idiot with a spear realizes what we are.”

Viola exhaled slowly.

“Something like that.”

Silva kept moving, steady as ever, carrying Lord Torvares through the night.

Viola looked at her grandfather again, and for a moment the strategist vanished. The friend, the granddaughter, the girl terrified of arriving too late returned in her eyes.

Luna’s voice softened.

“We’ll get him there.”

Viola didn’t answer immediately. Then she nodded.

“Then we keep moving.”

They kept moving nonstop until sunset of the next day. By then, the world had turned into mud, rain, and exhaustion.

The sky had remained hidden from morning to evening, buried behind thick clouds that poured water down without pause. There had been no proper sunrise. No clear afternoon light. No warmth. Just different shades of gray and darkness pressing over the land until the whole day felt like one long, miserable night.

Even now, with sunset supposedly settling somewhere behind the storm, it barely changed anything.

The road ahead was dark. The fields were darker. And Lionfang was close enough that the air itself felt wrong. Viola could sense it before they saw anything. Not clearly. Not like a proper spell signature. Just pressure. Danger.

The kind that settled over a battlefield before someone actually stepped onto it. Mana moved strangely in the distance, stirred by too many people, too many weapons, too much intent gathered in one place.

Home was ahead. So was war.

Silva slowed slightly without needing to be told, his ears angled forward, body low and tense beneath Lord Torvares’s unmoving form. The direwolf’s paws sank into wet earth with each step, but even after nearly two days of running and carrying, he still looked steadier than either of the girls.

Luna wiped rain from her face and stared into the dark.

“Something’s ahead.”