THE FALL
The Kingdom burned, Flames clawed the palace towers, turning stone to ash as screams echoed through the night. The enemy army slaughtered anyone in their path, leaving death and ruin behind.
The knight and the princess ran together, hearts pounding, feet slamming against the scorched ground. Her dress was torn, her hair singed, and tears blurred her vision. She glanced back once—at the palace, at the place where her father had fallen. Her sobs caught in her throat.
He lifted her into his arms. Her weight in his chest felt like the entire kingdom. “Hold on,” he whispered. “We’ll survive.”
They had no horse—the animal lay dead, pierced by arrows. There was no escape but on foot, into the jagged wild forest that awaited. Ash fell like snow, and from the shadows, eyes began to glow. Wolves—larger than they should be—stalked them, circling silently, patient, waiting for weakness.
As they ran, the knight’s mind flickered to a memory long buried: the kingdom in celebration, streets decorated, children laughing, music echoing through the air. Yet in the palace, the king had discovered a truth that threatened all their happiness: the child he had once adopted—now his loyal knight—was loved by his daughter.
Politics demanded the princess marry another kingdom’s prince. The knight, accused of overstepping, was sent away to the countryside, banned from the palace and the town. The wedding was in two days.
The knight had thanked the king silently, bowing low for all the kindness he had received, for being treated like a son. The princess had cried as he left, unaware of the war that would erupt if the marriage were broken—a war that would leave the kingdom starving, bleeding, and dying.
He had survived years the world outside the palace, poor and alone. His mother’s faded photo reminded him of everything he had lost. Taken in by the king at age eleven , the palace had given him a purpose in life. Now, that purpose had returned: protect the princess, the kingdom’s last hope, the royal blood.
The forest closed around them. Wolves multiplied, howling and snapping. The princess stumbled, frozen with fear, tears streaming, but he steadied her. “Don’t look back,” he urged. “Keep moving.”
The knight’s armor was cracked, his wounds deep. Blood ran freely, and yet he drew his sword again and again, every strike precise, every movement driven by desperation. Wolves lunged, circling, snapping. He fell to his knees but refused to yield, raising his sword, blocking, striking, breathing heavily, losing blood, his mind focused only on keeping her alive.
From above, eagles circled, signaling the enemy. Soldiers were closing in, but the forest itself seemed alive with danger, and the wolves kept coming.
The princess watched him fight, and for a moment, something stirred within her. Fear trembled into resolve. She stepped forward, her legs shaking, trembling like the leaves above, but she stood between him and the beasts, trembling, her heart pounding.
The wolves lunged—but then a sound erupted from her, a scream so powerful it shook the ground and the trees, reverberating like an earthquake or a shockwave. The forest trembled. Wolves were hurled aside, wounded and fainting. Some of the approaching enemy soldiers staggered, unconscious before they even reached the cliff.
The princess collapsed, bleeding from her ears and nose, her strength spent. The knight caught her in his arms, tears streaking his dirty, bloodied face.
She reached up, brushing his cheek, and fainted.
The knight gathered his last ounce of strength. He tore a strip of cloth from his armor, tied himself to her, and leapt from the cliff, holding her tightly as the wind tore at their robes. Below, the river waited like silver fire, roaring and swirling.
The enemy soldiers arrived too late, shouting and raising weapons—but the knight and the princess had already fallen together, disappearing into the river. He held her as if she were his whole world, as if letting go would cost him everything.
