The carriage rocked gently as it rolled down the uneven road, the sound of the horses' hooves filling the silence. Arwenzylle, exhausted from days of running and the tension of meeting the legendary Duke, finally allowed herself to rest. She curled up on the worn leather seat, her small frame dwarfed by its size. Her breathing evened out as sleep overtook her, but her face remained tight with an unease that even slumber couldn’t erase.
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Across from her, Duke Veynar sat with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon through the carriage window. Beside him sat his trusted knight, Gael, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a weathered face and an ever-present air of vigilance.
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Gael broke the silence first, his voice low but laced with curiosity. "Your Grace, I can’t help but wonder... Why take her in? She’s just a child, and from the looks of her, a half-starved one at that. She’s no warrior."
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The Duke leaned back, his gaze flicking briefly to Arwenzylle before returning to the window. "A child, yes. But not just any child."
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Gael frowned. "What do you mean?"
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"Did you see her eyes when she spoke to me?" the Duke asked, his tone thoughtful. "There’s fire there—more than I’ve seen in most grown men. Fire, and something else… pain. A lot of it."
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"Pain doesn’t make a warrior," Gael countered. "It breaks most people."
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The Duke turned to face his knight, his expression hardening. "And those it doesn’t break? It forges into something unyielding. She’s seen more than she should at her age. That much is clear. Whatever she’s been through, it’s shaped her. If she survives, she could become something far greater than either of us."
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Gael sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Still, it’s a risk. You don’t even know her story."
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"I don’t need to know her story," the Duke replied. "Not yet. Time will tell if she’s worth the risk."
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Their conversation was interrupted by a faint murmur. Both men turned their attention to Arwenzylle, whose face was contorted in distress. Her small hands clutched at the cloak draped over her as she twisted and turned in her sleep.
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“No…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Don’t… kill… me…”
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Gael’s brows furrowed in concern. “She’s dreaming. A nightmare, by the looks of it.”
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The Duke watched her closely, his sharp features unreadable. Arwenzylle’s breathing quickened, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. “Why… why did you… betray me?” she choked out, her voice breaking. “I trusted you…”
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Gael’s hand twitched as though he wanted to comfort her, but he hesitated, looking to the Duke for guidance. Veynar, however, remained still, his piercing gaze fixed on the girl.
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“She’s reliving something,” he said quietly. “Something that cut deeper than any blade.”
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Arwenzylle suddenly gasped, her eyes snapping open as she bolted upright, her chest heaving. She looked around wildly, her tear-streaked face full of panic until her eyes landed on the Duke and Gael. The sight of them seemed to ground her, and she quickly wiped her face with her sleeve, her small hands trembling.
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“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, avoiding their gazes.
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The Duke leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but firm. “You don’t need to apologize. Whatever it is you’re running from, it’s still chasing you. But if you want to survive, you’ll have to face it someday.”
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Arwenzylle looked up at him, her lips trembling as if she wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say.
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Gael softened his tone, trying to ease the tension. “We all have ghosts, lass. The trick is learning to live with them—and not letting them control you.”
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The Duke leaned back, crossing his arms again. “Rest while you can. The road ahead won’t be easy, and you’ll need your strength.”
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Arwenzylle nodded silently, pulling the cloak tighter around her as she leaned back against the seat. But sleep didn’t come easily this time. The nightmare lingered, a haunting reminder of the life she was trying so desperately to leave behind.
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The Duke watched her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to Gael, his voice barely above a whisper. “Whatever happened to her, it’s worse than I thought. Keep an eye on her.”
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Gael nodded, his jaw tightening. “I will.”
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The carriage continued its journey, the faint sounds of the night filtering through the quiet interior. As the city of Dryvener’s capital drew closer, so too did the threads of fate binding the three together tighten, weaving a story that none of them could yet foresee.
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