The square lay open before them.

  An unsettling silence hung over the place.

  “Over there!” Eria gasped, pointing to the low wall at the far end of the square. “The canal is just beyond!”

  He nodded.

  Their legs burned from all the running, but they kept up the pace. The goal was within reach. Just a few more meters — and they’d be free.

  But—

  “Stop right there!”

  The voice sliced through the silence like a blade.

  Suddenly, General Oxwin stood behind them — infamous for the cunning that had once won this city for the Count. His armor gleamed under the gaslight, his cloak tattered by the wind. And yet, he radiated a strange kind of nobility.

  In his hand, he held a spear — as tall as a grown man.

  “You little rats thought you could just disappear, didn’t you?” he growled. His voice was calm, yet it trembled with rage.

  “I can smell it when a fighting-age boy is sneaking around nearby.”

  His gaze locked onto Nidal — cold and unblinking.

  The two of them stared back — frozen.

  The General laughed. Dry. Cold.

  “Lost your tongues, children?”

  Then everything happened too fast.

  A kick — precise, brutal — struck the boy in the side.

  He was hurled against a pillar, crashing hard to the ground.

  She screamed and rushed toward him — but the General seized her by the arm and yanked her back.

  “Let him go!” she cried, kicking out, wild and desperate — but his fist slammed into her stomach like a battering ram.

  The air fled her lungs, and she collapsed, gasping. The boy struggled to his feet, staggering.

  Blood trickled from his lip.

  His eyes darted around — searching — and found her on the ground, in the clutches of the General, who looked down at her with cold disdain.

  “So… you were planning to escape.”

  “Then see for yourselves what awaits you down there.”

  With a violent jerk, he hurled the girl into the canal.

  She hit the water hard, but without injury.

  The boy didn’t hesitate — he leapt in after her to help.

  But the General followed.

  “Stay with me, boy,” he said with an eerie calm.

  “Don’t touch me, stranger!” the boy shouted —

  and was met with another vicious kick to the side.

  The girl struggled to the surface.

  Gasping. Trembling.

  “Get away, you barbarians!” she cried, her voice shaking with fear — and yet, there was still a flicker of defiance in her eyes.

  He only laughed. Cold and amused.

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  She drew a small knife — a simple kitchen knife she must’ve brought from home, like the kind found in any household.

  “Drop the knife, girl. You don’t look like someone who knows how to use that,” he said, his voice too calm, almost whispering.

  Slowly, he advanced toward her.

  A light rain began to fall.

  With a sudden motion, he grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her close. The knife flew from her hand and clattered into the darkness.

  Then he shoved her back into the water — hard, but with chilling precision.

  Now, his full attention turned back to Nidal.

  He grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the cold canal wall.

  One punch.

  And another — each one driving into his stomach.

  With a final jerk, he hurled him aside.

  “G-Get away... don’t touch him!” the girl screamed, her voice cracking.

  The General turned to her — almost regretfully.

  “You brought this on yourselves. It could’ve gone differently, you know?” There was a hint of disappointment in his tone.

  “You could’ve just let me have my fun with him.”

  The rain was now pouring down in relentless sheets.

  Nidal lay curled on the ground. Every breath burned. Through blurred vision, he saw the General slowly walking toward the girl — and heard that sickening laugh.

  With one hand, he grabbed her and dragged her toward the water.

  Then he gripped her by the shoulders — and threw her into the canal with brutal force.

  But it didn’t end there.

  He seized her again — and dunked her under.

  Again.

  And again.

  She gasped for air, kicked, pleaded — but the General didn’t listen.

  “You asked for this. And the boy — he’s coming with me. I’ll deal with him myself.”

  Slowly, gasping for breath, Nidal tried to rise. He got up — only to collapse back to his knees. His body wouldn’t obey anymore.

  But then—

  “You wretched bastard!” he suddenly cried out, and without hesitation, he charged at the General.

  The man turned his head — but it was already too late.

  The knife plunged into his neck.

  A moment of silent shock.

  Then the blood sprayed — first over the blade, then across his chest, and finally spilled across the ground, dark and heavy like guilt.

  The General staggered.

  Not a sound escaped his lips.

  He toppled to the side — limp, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  Silence.

  Nidal stared at his hands. Bloody. Trembling. His eyes wide with disbelief.

  “Eria…! Are you alright?!”

  He rushed over to her and dropped to his knees. She was alive — but her breathing was shallow, trembling. He lifted her — carefully, almost reverently. Carried her to the edge of the canal and gently laid her down.

  He stood just a step away.

  What had started as a light rain had now become a full storm.

  “He’s dead. It... it’s over.”

  His voice was barely more than a whisper.

  He rush of the canal blended with the steady drumming of the rain, beating down on the dark cobblestones. In the dim light of the stormy evening, everything looked blurred — surreal, like a dream one couldn’t quite wake from.

  With a trembling voice, she whispered, “I… when he held me under…”

  “Everything went so… dark.”

  Slowly, she brushed her wet red hair from her face.

  “I thought… that was the end of me.”

  He knelt beside her.

  He dipped his bloodied hands into a puddle. Rubbed them together, trying to wash away the grime and the blood.

  “I didn’t know what I was doing. I… I just…”

  “You saved me.” Her voice was calm.

  Then, softly: “Are you afraid?”

  He hesitated. At first, he nodded — but then...

  “No… not really.”

  He looked at her. Her hair clung to her cheek, her eyes shimmering in the light of the evening moon.

  “I wish I were… maybe.”

  She leaned forward, took his hand, and gently kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  For a while, they rested —nuntil they moved deeper into the canal, finding a hidden spot where they could stay for a few hours, hoping the weather would finally turn. The night wasn’t over yet, but the darkness had begun to fade. A pale gray settled over the narrow alleys, where the rain had at last come to an end. Only the dripping of water from overflowing gutters remained.

  It was quieter than usual.

  They walked in silence, side by side, along the canal that ran like a vein beneath the city.

  “Up ahead…” she murmured at last. “That’s where we get out.”

  He simply nodded.

  The exit looked old — overgrown, with rubble blocking the direct path.

  They crawled through — first her, then him.

  On the other side, the first breath of morning greeted them.

  The world was quiet. No birdsong. No footsteps. No voices.

  Only a wide stretch of open land, half-swallowed by the morning mist, and above it — the sky, slowly growing lighter.

  They stood still for a moment.

  She turned to him.

  “So you’re heading west?” she asked. “The roads are still relatively safe that way.”

  He said nothing.

  His eyes lingered on her.

  “Yes. And you?”

  “I’m going south — to my uncle. He’s probably already waiting for me.” She hesitated, then stepped a little closer.

  “You… could come with me.”

  “I still need to find something. Something that might be very important to me.”

  She took a breath. Stepped one step closer.

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  “And I hope you reach your uncle safely.”

  Silence.

  She rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Thank you,” was all she said — and the last words Nidal would hear from her, for now.

  Then she turned away.

  Her footsteps were soft, but steady. He watched her until the mist swallowed her whole.