Chapter 3 - Twelve Hours Missing

Chapter Three

The lantern light had been gold against the dark.

Mira remembered that most clearly—the way the festival lanterns had swung from their ropes, painting the crowd in warm, flickering light.

Music had played somewhere. A fiddle, perhaps, or a lute. She could not remember the tune now, only that it had been lively. People had been laughing, and the air had smelled of fried dough and autumn spices.

Twelve hours ago.

The memory shifted.

Mira stood at the edge of the crowd, watching Lysa laugh at something a merchant had said. The elven princess moved through the festival as though she belonged there—smiling at children, accepting a flower from an old woman, her silver hair catching the lantern light like moonlight on water.

Mira had turned away for only a moment.

One moment.

She had noticed a vendor selling honey cakes and thought of how much Lysa loved them. She stepped towards the stall, reaching into her pouch for a few coins.

When she turned back, the crowd had shifted.

Lysa was farther away now, near the carriage path that wound along the edge of the festival. Mira raised one hand, ready to wave her over and show her the cakes.

The carriage came from nowhere.

Black.

Unmarked.

Moving far too quickly for the crowded street.

Mira saw its door swing open.

She saw hands reach out.

Rough hands.

Gloved hands.

She saw Lysa’s surprise become terror as they seized her. A cloth was forced over her mouth, and she was dragged inside with brutal efficiency.

The wheels tore through the mud.

Then the carriage vanished into the night.

Mira’s fingers tightened around the honey cakes.

She dropped them.

She ran.

But the carriage was already gone.

Twelve hours.

Mira blinked.

The forest returned in shades of grey and brown.

Dawn had broken cold and pale, filtering through the bare branches in thin, watery light. Her eyes burned. She had not slept.

She could not sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the carriage door swinging shut.

“Mira.”

A hand settled on her shoulder.

Warm.

Steady.

“We will find her,” Melra said. “Do not worry.”

Mira turned.

Her sister’s face was drawn with exhaustion. Melra had been attending an important meeting during the festival and had arrived only after the chaos began, but she had been searching ever since.

Her eyes remained kind.

Her grip was firm.

“She’s been gone so long,” Mira whispered.

“Twelve hours is not forever.”

“It feels like it.”

Melra squeezed her shoulder.

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

Mira tried.

The air was cold and tasted of pine and damp earth.

It did not help.

The memory was already pulling her back—the lantern light, the music, the carriage door—

“Hold.”

Malora’s voice cut through the quiet forest.

The captain raised a closed fist, and the column of knights halted immediately. Her horse shifted beneath her, sensing the tension.

Malora’s eyes scanned the path ahead.

Then the tree line.

Then the soft earth where the forest trail disappeared into the undergrowth.

She dismounted with fluid grace, landing almost silently despite her armour. Around her, the other knights followed suit.

Malora crouched and examined something Mira could not see.

“The tracks end here,” she said. “They left the road and entered the trees. The ground is too soft for horses. We continue on foot.”

She straightened and turned towards her knights. Her voice remained low, but it carried authority.

“Groups of three. Grid pattern. The northern group takes the ridge. The eastern group follows the streambed. The western group checks the thickets.”

Her gaze moved across them.

“Mark any sign of passage—broken branches, wheel ruts or disturbed soil. One call if you find anything. Do not engage if you locate hostiles. Report back.”

The knights moved with practised efficiency, checking their weapons and separating into groups before spreading through the trees.

Malora turned towards Mira and Melra.

“Stay with me. No wandering.”

Mira nodded, but her eyes were already drifting towards the forest.

It was vast.

Endless.

Lysa could be anywhere within it.

Bound.

Injured.

Hidden.

The longer they searched, the more those possibilities twisted into nightmares.

Mira began walking faster than the others.

Her gaze jumped from shadow to shadow.

A dark gap between two trees.

A shape that resembled cloth until it became bark.

A broken branch that might mean something—or nothing.

“Mira,” Melra called softly.

Mira did not stop.

“Mira.”

Her sister’s voice sharpened.

Mira slowed, but only slightly.

“What?”

“You’re moving too far ahead.”

“I can see a trail.”

“You saw a broken branch.”

“It could mean something.”

“It could,” Melra said carefully. “Or it could be nothing.”

Mira turned too quickly.

“And what if it is something? What if it leads to Lysa and we ignore it?”

She stopped.

Her hands had clenched so tightly that her knuckles had turned pale.

Melra’s expression softened.

She did not argue.

There was no answer that would comfort her.

They continued in tense silence.

The forest grew thicker.

The air became colder and damper.

Mira’s exhaustion pulled at her like weights tied to her limbs.

Twelve hours.

Twelve hours of replaying that moment.

The lantern light.

The carriage.

The door swinging shut.

Then the ground trembled.

It was faint, barely more than a shiver travelling through the roots, but Mira felt it in her bones.

She looked up.

Beyond the search line, a light struck down through the trees.

It was not sunlight.

It was not lightning.

A pale beam pierced the forest canopy for one violent moment, bright enough to shine through the leaves and paint the trunks white-gold.

The ground trembled again.

Stronger this time.

As though something heavy had landed somewhere beyond the trees.

Then the beam vanished.

The forest fell silent.

Mira stared towards the place where the light had struck.

Her breath caught.

“Lysa.”

Melra reached for her.

“Mira, wait—”

Mira ran.

She did not ask permission.

She did not explain.

She pushed through the undergrowth and sprinted towards the beam, branches whipping against her arms and roots catching at her boots.

She barely noticed.

The light had come from somewhere ahead.

Lysa could be there.

Lysa had to be there.

“Mira!”

Melra ran after her without hesitation.

Malora’s head snapped towards them.

For one sharp second, her gaze moved between the knights spreading through the forest and Mira’s disappearing figure.

Her jaw tightened.

“Continue the search!” she commanded. “Spread wider. Mark anything connected to the carriage. Do not abandon formation.”

One knight looked towards the place where the beam had vanished.

“Captain?”

“I will investigate.”

Malora moved before anyone else could question her.

Lysa was the royal guest placed under her protection. If the beam had anything to do with her disappearance, Malora could not ignore it.

Her hand settled near the sword at her hip as she followed Mira and Melra into the trees.

Mira did not slow.

The forest blurred around her.

Trunks.

Shadows.

Undergrowth.

She leapt over a fallen log, ducked beneath a low branch and kept running.

Behind her, she could hear Melra struggling to keep pace and calling her name, but the words barely registered.

The beam had been close.

Just ahead.

Beyond those trees.

The forest began to change.

The ground dipped lower.

The trees became thicker and older.

The air smelled of damp stone and cold earth.

Mira finally slowed when she saw a shape between the trunks.

A cave.

Not a natural hollow.

Its entrance had been partially concealed behind brush and rocks, but the ground surrounding it had been disturbed.

Footprints.

Drag marks.

Signs of movement.

Far too much movement.

Mira crouched behind a tree, breathing hard.

Melra reached her a moment later. She dropped low and grabbed Mira’s wrist.

“Wait.”

Mira pulled against her grip.

“This could be it.”

“That is exactly why you need to wait.”

Mira’s eyes flashed.

She was about to argue when a sound came from near the cave entrance.

Two men stood among the outer rocks, armed and speaking quietly. Another moved along a narrow side path, checking the trees with lazy but practised glances.

They did not look like lost travellers.

They did not look like guards protecting innocent people.

They looked like men who did not want anyone to find this place.

Mira’s breathing changed.

Her hand moved towards the dagger at her belt.

Melra felt the shift and tightened her grip on Mira’s wrist.

“Look at me,” she whispered.

Mira did not.

Her eyes remained fixed on the cave.

“If Lysa is inside, rushing in will not save her,” Melra said. “It will get you taken as well.”

That reached Mira.

Only a little.

She swallowed and nodded once.

Melra slowly released her.

Farther behind them, Malora moved silently between the trees.

She had caught sight of the sisters, but they had pushed too far ahead. She lowered her stance and continued towards them, carefully placing each step to avoid disturbing the branches and leaves beneath her boots.

Near the cave, one guard shifted away from the entrance.

Another turned his back.

Mira moved.

Too soon.

She slipped from behind the tree and crossed towards the cave, keeping low as she moved between patches of cover.

Melra’s eyes widened.

She followed.

She could not allow Mira to approach the hideout alone.

Mira reached a low stone near the cave wall and crouched behind it. She leaned slightly to one side, trying to see through the shadowed entrance.

Melra took cover several paces behind her, pressing herself into a shallow hollow between the roots of an old tree.

Neither of them saw the fourth bandit until it was too late.

He approached from Mira’s blind spot, walking slowly with one hand resting near his weapon.

He must have heard something.

A pebble shifting.

A boot scraping against stone.

Cloth brushing against bark.

Whatever it had been, Mira had not realised she had made the sound.

The bandit moved closer.

Mira did not see him.

Melra did.

Her eyes widened.

She prepared to move—

Then another bandit stepped directly beside her hiding place.

Melra froze.

His boot stopped only inches from her hand.

She could hear his breathing.

The faint creak of leather whenever he shifted his weight.

The scrape of his weapon against his belt.

If she moved her fingers, the dead leaves beneath them might rustle.

If she whispered, he would hear her.

If she attempted a spell, even the smallest movement could draw his attention.

Melra remained completely still.

She could only watch as the other bandit approached Mira.

Malora was still moving towards them through the trees.

She saw the danger.

She quickened her pace, but she was not close enough. Drawing her sword or rushing forwards would alert every guard at the entrance.

The bandit behind Mira lowered his hand towards his weapon.

Mira still did not see him.

He took another step.

Then glass shattered somewhere inside the cave.

The sound was sharp and violent.

Every bandit froze.

A heartbeat later, timber crashed against stone with a heavy, brutal crack.

Then another.

Shouts erupted from inside the cave.

Hurried footsteps.

Confused yelling.

Something heavy scraping across the floor.

One of the guards near the entrance turned towards the noise.

“What was that?”

The bandit beside Melra stepped away from her hiding place.

The one approaching Mira abandoned his search and ran towards the cave.

The other guards followed.

Mira finally turned.

She saw the man who had nearly reached her only as he disappeared through the entrance.

Her face went pale.

Melra slowly released the breath she had been holding.

Their eyes met across the distance between them.

Neither spoke.

The look was enough.

You did not see him.

Mira understood.

For one moment, the fear on her face changed shape.

It was no longer fear for herself.

It was the realisation of how close she had come to making everything worse.

Malora reached Melra’s position and dropped into cover beside her.

Her eyes moved from Melra to Mira and then towards the now-abandoned entrance.

Her expression was hard.

There would be words later.

For now, she raised one hand and signalled.

Stay low.

Stay close.

Move together.

Mira nodded.

Then another sound echoed from inside the cave.

A chain scraped against stone.

Mira’s head snapped towards the entrance.

Something followed.

A muffled cry.

Weak.

Distant.

It might not have been Lysa.

It might have been nothing.

Mira moved anyway.

Melra reached towards her.

Too late.

Mira slipped through the cave entrance.

Malora gave Melra one final signal.

Stay behind me.

Then she followed Mira inside.

Melra went after them.

The cave swallowed all three.