At the cottage deep within the forest, it was almost sunset. Miriam was cooking while Ayumu quietly read her books nearby.
It was a peaceful day for them and they are just waiting for Eomer and Visil to arrive later at night.
A strange sound suddenly broke the calm. It sounded like a low, vibrating, almost unnatural and it is coming from outside.
Miriam paused.
She turned toward the door and looked out. In the distance, the invisible barrier surrounding their home flickered—and then she saw it.
An armoured hand was forcing its way through.
Her breath caught.
That was not her husband. Nor was it Visil or any of the other magis—they would have passed through the barrier without resistance.
Danger. They were in danger.
Without wasting another second, Miriam rushed to retrieve a small bag she had prepared long ago for Ayumu—just in case. Her hands moved quickly as she opened drawers, stuffing in a pouch of gold coins and several pieces of freshly baked bread. She made sure the bag wasn't too heavy for a child to carry.
Ayumu looked up, her eyes widening at her mother's frantic movements.
"Mother… is everything al—"
"Shh." Miriam hushed her immediately, grabbing her hand.
She pulled Ayumu along, guiding her to the far corner of the guest bedroom. Ayumu being an obedient child just followed her without a sound.
In the guest room where Visil was resting last time, there a small cabinet that stood against the wall. Miriam shoved it aside, revealing a tiny door hidden in the floor.
She dropped to her knees and opened it.
Without hesitation, she gently pushed Ayumu inside. It was not just a crawlspace—but a narrow tunnel that led out into the forest.
"Take this bag, Ayumu," Miriam said, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay calm. "My lovely child, you must go first. People are coming for you. You- you must survive, understand me? I'm sure your father will send someone to find you… to take care of you."
Ayumu, ever obedient, looked back at her mother, her small voice shaking.
"But what about you, Mother? I can't leave you… please, come with me."
Her eyes were filled with sorrow—as if she already knew this parting might be their last.
"I will come after you, my lovely child. Now g—"
Miriam stopped.
In Ayumu's blue eyes, she saw it.
A flicker of gold.
Oh no.
Ayumu suddenly gasped, clutching her head as a searing pain overtook her.
It felt as if her eyes were burning. Her head throbbed violently, the pain unbearable. The little girl could not hold it in—she screamed, her hands covering her eyes as if trying to stop the fire within them.
Slowly, her light golden hair turned completely white.
Miriam pulled her into a tight embrace, shushing her desperately, trying to quiet her screams—even though she knew her daughter was in agony.
Tears streamed down Miriam's face.
Because she understood what this meant.
Her husband was dead.
Outside, the barrier began to fade.
Through the window, Miriam could see them clearly now. A group of soldiers clad in orichalcum armour, marching steadily toward the cottage.
There was nothing peaceful about them. Only malice.
Miriam steadied herself, forcing down her grief and fear.
She knew what she had to do.
It was up to her now to save her beloved child.
Even as Ayumu writhed in pain, she clung tightly to her mother.
Miriam had to pull her away, though it broke her heart to do so. She cupped Ayumu's face and kissed both her cheeks, her eyes filled with resolve.
"I love you, my child. Mama loves you so much...Don't make a sound. Stay quiet so they won't find you. Go into the forest like you always do and hide until the other magis come for you."
Her voice trembled for a brief moment—but she steadied herself.
"Now, go."
She gently lowered Ayumu into the tunnel and closed the door. Quickly, she covered it with a rug and pushed the cabinet back into place, sealing the hidden passage as if it had never been there.
Miriam stood still for a heartbeat.
Then she turned—and stormed out.
She stepped outside, alone.
A single woman in a simple dress, with no armour, no weapon.
Yet her brown eyes burned with fury as she faced the approaching soldiers—nearly twenty of them, all clad in orichalcum armour.
"Wow, what a pretty woman. Look at those curves."
"We're not here for her. We're here for the white magis child. Focus."
"Oh, come on. How hard is it to find a child? Let's have some fun first, then we'll look."
The soldiers talked and laughed among themselves.
Miriam's expression hardened.
"There is no child here."
"Don't fool us, woman," one of them sneered. "We heard her scream. And judging by this place and the barrier just now… your husband must have been Lord Eomer."
He smirked.
"And he may already be dead. Haha! And that's why we're here."
"Do not speak his name with your filth-covered mouth!"
Her voice rang with fury.
Miriam closed her eyes for a brief moment—and called out.
"Arthemis… come."
"With pleasure, master!"
The voice that answered was bright—almost cheerful.
The ground trembled.
A warm brown light gathered behind Miriam, slowly taking form. It shaped itself into a graceful doe—a spirit with a playful presence. It circled around her, light on its feet, and wherever it stepped, grass and small flowers sprouted from the earth.
"Master, give me your command," it said, almost playfully.
The soldiers laughed at the sight of it, unimpressed by what they thought was a harmless creature. Out of all spirit animals, a doe is laughable.
Miriam opened her eyes and they glowed.
"Show them nature's wrath, Arthemis."
"With pleasure!"
The spirit leapt lightly—and stomped the ground.
At once, the earth answered.
Thick vines burst forth from beneath the soil, coiling around the soldiers' legs, arms, and torsos. Some were yanked off their feet, others were flung aside as the vines lashed wildly.
Chaos erupted.
The vines whipped through the air, striking without pattern, dragging soldiers across the ground as panic spread through their ranks.
Cutting the vines changed nothing.
The more the soldiers slashed, the more thick vines burst from the ground, whipping wildly in every direction.
At first, the soldiers were thrown into chaos—but they quickly adapted.
"Form up!" one of them shouted.
They began working together. A group focused on cutting and holding back the vines, while the others pushed forward toward Miriam.
Arrows suddenly flew through the air.
But none reached her.
The doe spirit leapt gracefully, and the vines twisted upward, deflecting every shot before it could touch her.
Miriam continued to focus, pouring her energy into Arthemis.
A few soldiers fell—crushed or flung aside—but many remained standing. Their orichalcum armour absorbed most of the damage. Even when struck, they only staggered from the impact.
Miriam knew.
Other magic would be useless against them.
That was why she relied on this.
But slowly—they were closing in.
Arrows rained without pause, forcing Arthemis to guard constantly. The spirit stomped and moved, but the pressure was mounting.
For just a brief moment, Miriam's thoughts faltered.
Ayumu… she should be in the forest by now.
That moment was enough.
Two soldiers broke through.
They lunged forward and slammed into her, forcing her to the ground and pinning her arms.
"Got her!"
Arthemis cried out and rushed toward her master—
But spears of orichalcum pierced through the spirit.
It let out a sharp, pained cry before its form flickered… and vanished.
The vines collapsed instantly, falling lifeless to the ground.
Miriam was left alone.
Defenceless.
The soldiers staggered back, breathing heavily. Their faces twisted with anger—more than half their men had fallen to a single woman.
The survivors burned with rage.
Miriam struggled beneath them, striking weakly, refusing to yield.
But they had lost all patience.
One of them drew his sword.
Without hesitation, he drove it straight into her chest.
Miriam gasped.
The strength left her body almost instantly. The pain was sharp—but her thoughts drifted only to one thing.
Ayumu…Please… be safe my child.
At the moment of her death, memories began to surface.
Miriam saw her husband and her daughter.
She remembered the first time she held her daughter in her arms after giving birth—so small, so fragile. She remembered Ayumu's laughter when her father lifted her high into the air, the way her tiny hands reached out without fear.
She remembered the way her face puckered after biting into a sour lemon… and laugh again moments later.
Such small, simple moments. Yet they meant everything.
Tears slipped down Miriam's cheeks.
Her daughter…Her husband…Her adopted son, Visil...They were her world. Living with them in this cottage in the forest was her happy moments.
And even as her vision faded, those memories were the last light she held onto.
The soldiers laughed as Miriam lay dying.
What followed was cruel and inhuman. They treated her body without dignity as they raped her almost lifeless body. Their laughter echoing through the clearing as if her life meant nothing at all.
Behind them, flames began to rise as they set fire to the cottage, watching, waiting—hoping the hidden child would reveal herself.
If she didn't, then they figured she would burn with it.
A cruel end.
And unknown to Miriam—Ayumu saw everything.
From within the forest, hidden but not far enough, she witnessed it all. Her mother… her final moments… the cruelty she could not understand.
Her small body trembled violently.
But she did not make a sound. Because she remembered what her mother said.
Don't let them hear you.
Her golden eyes, now fully changed, overflowed with tears. As they fell to the ground, they hardened—turning into tiny crystals upon impact.
Biting down on her fear, Ayumu turned and ran deeper into the forest.
----------------
Meanwhile—
Visil rode hard through the forest, his horse pushing to its limits.
Beside him was Kaiser Wrath, a young black magis of his age. Behind them followed two white magis and several others—survivors of the explosion at the palace.
They rode with urgency.
To uphold their promise to Lord Eomer. To save his family.
Visil's vision blurred with tears.
The man he called father, even when they shared no blood… has been killed.
But there was still hope.
His mother. His sister.
He clenched his jaw, gripping the reins tighter.
Please… let me make it in time.