Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Gabi's pov

I turned my back on the river, its roar fading behind us, and forced my trembling legs to keep moving. Every step felt heavier than the last, but I couldn't afford to stop. Not yet. The warmth of Lily's hand in mine was a lifeline—a reminder of why we couldn't falter now.

Elara's face flickered in my mind, sharp and vivid, a painful contrast to the dull ache settling over me. She'd given everything for this. For Lily. For me. The thought made my chest tighten, but I pushed it down, keeping my focus on the path ahead. I couldn't let myself grieve, not now. Not when we still had so far to go.

Lily stumbled beside me, her breathing ragged, and I slowed just enough to steady her. "Almost there," I murmured, though I didn't know where there was anymore. Somewhere safe. Somewhere their reach couldn't find us. I had no map for this, only instinct, but it would have to be enough.

The forest ahead was dense, the kind of place where sunlight fought to break through. Shadows stretched long over the ground, and every snap of a twig set my nerves alight. I couldn't stop thinking about the guards. They'd seen us escape. Would they give up so easily? Or would they find another way across? The thought made me quicken my pace, despite the burning in my muscles.

Lily broke the silence, her voice small. "Do you think... she knew we'd make it?"

Elara. Of course, she meant Elara. The question hit me harder than I expected, like a blow I hadn't braced for. I swallowed against the lump in my throat, keeping my gaze fixed forward. "She believed in us," I said, the words feeling too fragile to hold the weight of what I truly felt. "She believed in you."

Lily didn't respond, but her grip on my hand tightened. I glanced down at her. She looked so small, her face pale and streaked with dirt, her hair plastered to her forehead from the river. And yet, there was steel in her eyes—a quiet strength that hadn't been there before.

She wasn't just surviving anymore. She was fighting.

We pressed deeper into the woods, the river a distant hum now. My clothes clung to me, cold and damp, but I ignored the discomfort. Survival didn't leave room for complaints. My thoughts wandered again, back to Elara, to her smile, her sharp wit, the way she'd always known what to say to calm my nerves. The way she'd stood between us and the end, her blade flashing like a star before the darkness swallowed her whole.

I clenched my jaw, anger and guilt warring within me. She'd made her choice. She'd wanted this. But that didn't make it easier to accept. The weight of her sacrifice settled heavier on my shoulders with every step.

Ahead, the trees began to thin, and I spotted a narrow trail winding upward. A vantage point, maybe, or at least a place to rest where we could see anyone approaching. "Come on," I urged Lily, tugging her toward the incline. She didn't complain, just followed, her determination matching mine.

When we reached the top, I stopped, scanning the horizon. The land stretched out before us, vast and unfamiliar. Rolling hills gave way to distant mountains, and between them, scattered villages dotted the landscape. It was beautiful, in a way that felt almost cruel. How could the world look so peaceful when everything we'd known had been torn apart?

Lily sank to the ground beside me, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. I knelt beside her, my eyes still scanning the woods below for any sign of movement. "We'll rest here for a moment," I said, though my instincts screamed to keep moving. "Just long enough to get our strength back."

She nodded, leaning her head against my arm. "Do you think they'll follow us?"

I hesitated, my gaze fixed on the trees. "They'd be fools to try," I said, though I wasn't sure I believed it. "The river's too dangerous. They'll have to find another way across, and by then, we'll be long gone."

Lily didn't respond, but her breathing slowed, and I realized she was trying to trust my words. I wished I could feel the same confidence I was pretending to have.

As the wind brushed through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, I let myself steal a moment—just one—to close my eyes. Elara's voice came to me, soft and steady, the way it always had in the darkest moments.

"Protect her, Gabi. Promise me."

"I promise," I whispered into the wind, the vow as much for myself as it was for her. Then I stood, pulling Lily up with me. We couldn't stop here. Not yet. Elara had given us this chance, and I wouldn't waste it.

"Let's go," I said, my voice stronger now. "We have a long way to go, but we'll make it. Together."

The path ahead was rough, a narrow, twisting track that wove its way into the hills of the neighboring kingdom. Each step took us further from the border, and with every mile, the tension in my shoulders eased slightly. The forest began to thin, the trees giving way to open slopes dotted with shrubs and jagged rocks.

The air felt different here—cleaner, lighter. I'd never crossed into this kingdom before, but even without a map, I knew we were in unfamiliar territory. That was good. Unfamiliar meant unpredictable, and unpredictable might just keep us alive.

Lily's pace slowed, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. She hadn't complained once, but I could see the exhaustion etched into every movement. The girl had more strength than I'd given her credit for, but even she had limits.

"We'll rest soon," I told her, though I wasn't sure where. The landscape offered little in the way of shelter, and night was falling fast. The fading sunlight turned the sky a deep orange, casting long shadows across the ground. I scanned the horizon, searching for anything—an outcropping, a cave, even a cluster of thick trees—something that could offer cover.

Then I spotted it. Just ahead, nestled against the base of a rocky hill, was a cluster of ancient ruins. Crumbled stone walls rose from the ground like the skeleton of some long-forgotten fortress. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

"There," I said, pointing. "We'll stop there for the night."

The moment we reached the ruins, Lily all but collapsed against the cold stone wall. I didn't hesitate. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, and she sank into me like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her trembling body pressed against mine, and I felt a fierce protectiveness rise in my chest.

"It's okay," I murmured, smoothing damp strands of hair from her face. "We're safe here. Just breathe."

She nodded, but her breaths were still shallow, her body shaking from the cold and exhaustion. Without a word, I shrugged off my cloak and wrapped it around both of us. The fabric wasn't much, but it trapped our shared warmth, and slowly, I felt her stop shivering.

"Better?" I asked softly.

She nodded again, this time resting her forehead against my shoulder. "I thought we'd never get away," she whispered. Her voice was raw, like she was barely holding herself together.

"But we did," I said, my voice steady. "We're here. Together."

Her arms tightened around me, and for a moment, neither of us moved. The world outside the ruins faded—the cold, the danger, the fear. All I could feel was her, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the soft warmth of her breath against my neck.

"I don't know what I would've done without you, Gabi," she said after a long silence, her voice barely audible.

I pulled back just enough to look at her, my hands still resting on her shoulders. "You're stronger than you think, Lily," I said, my gaze meeting hers. "But you'll never have to find out. Not while I'm here."

Her eyes searched mine, her expression vulnerable yet determined. She didn't look away, and for a heartbeat, the space between us seemed to shrink. I couldn't stop myself—I reached up, brushing my fingers gently across her cheek. Her skin was cool, but the way she leaned into my touch sent warmth flooding through me.

"Gabi," she murmured, her voice catching.

"I've got you," I whispered, barely able to find my voice. "I'll always have you."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. Slowly, she shifted closer, her face tilting up to mine. For a moment, I hesitated, unsure if I was reading her right. But then her hand found mine, her fingers threading through mine like they belonged there.

And I knew.

I closed the distance, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that felt like an anchor in the storm. She kissed me back, her movements tentative at first, but then her grip on my hand tightened, and her other arm slid around my back.

When we finally pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining with something that made my chest ache in the best way. She smiled—a small, tired smile—but it lit up her entire face.

"I trust you," she said, her voice steady despite the exhaustion. "With everything."

I leaned my forehead against hers, my heart pounding as I whispered, "And I trust you. Always."

The ruins around us might have been cold and crumbling, but in that moment, it didn't matter.  All that mattered was that we'd made it this far, and we had each other.

"Get some rest," I said softly, holding her close as I settled against the wall. "I'll keep watch."

"Not without you," she murmured, her voice already heavy with sleep. She snuggled closer, her head resting against my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her again, letting her warmth seep into me.

The first thing I noticed when I woke was Lily's warmth. Her head was nestled against my chest, her hair tickling my chin, and her arm was draped over my waist. The soft rise and fall of her breathing was steady, peaceful—so different from the chaos we'd left behind.

For a moment, I just stayed there, holding her close, afraid to move in case I woke her. The morning light was creeping over the ruins, casting soft golden hues across the crumbling walls. The world felt quiet, as if it, too, was holding its breath, giving us this fleeting moment of calm.

Lily stirred, her fingers curling slightly against my side. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, but when she looked up and saw me, a soft smile spread across her face.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," I said, my own smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Did you sleep okay?"

She nodded, her cheeks flushing faintly. "Better than I have in weeks." Her gaze drifted down, and she seemed to realize how tightly we were tangled together. She didn't pull away, though. Instead, she shifted just enough to look me in the eyes. "Thank you. For everything."

"You don't have to thank me," I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her smile softened, and for a moment, neither of us moved. The sunlight caught in her eyes, making them shine, and I felt that same ache in my chest from the night before—the kind that was equal parts tenderness and something deeper, something I couldn't quite put into words.

"We should get moving soon," I said, scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. "The farther we get from the border, the safer we'll be."

She sighed but didn't argue. Instead, she leaned against me for a moment longer, as if gathering strength. "Where do we go from here?" she asked softly.

"North," I said. "There's a village a few days' walk from here—if we can reach it, we might find shelter and supplies. Maybe even someone willing to help us."

"And if they don't?" she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.

I met her gaze, my hand finding hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Then we keep going. Together."

Her expression steadied, determination flickering in her eyes. "Okay," she said. "Let's go."

We packed up quickly, what little we had, and began our journey again. The ruins faded into the distance behind us, and the open hills stretched out ahead, bathed in the soft light of morning. Lily stayed close, our hands brushing as we walked, and I felt a quiet strength settle over me.