Chapter 5

~Serah POV~

The camp was chaos as men grabbed blades, women snatched their children, horses shrieked in panic, then Tristan's voice cut through the uproar. "Move! Take only what you can carry." He turned to me, eyes sharp. "Stay closer to me."

My stomach twisted, and the baby fluttered as though sensing danger. "What if they catch us?" I asked.

"They won't," Tristan said flatly, shoving a cloak around my shoulders. "Not when I'm alive." His words chilled me as we fled into the forest, branches clawed at my gown, mud s*ck*d at my shoes and behind us, the campfires dimmed, swallowed by night. Then, faintly, the sound of horns came

"They're close," Tristan muttered.

I stumbled. "They're here for me and the baby."

He gripped my arm, steadying me. "Then we'll make them regret coming."

Hours later, when the hunters finally caught us, the moon was high, shadows moved between the trees, half a dozen men in black armor, the Veylen crest gleaming on their chests. The leader sneered. "By order of Lord Jethro, hand over the traitorous bride or die." My breath ceases immediately, because I can't believe Jethro ordered this!

Tristan's dagger glinted. "Try to take her, I dare you."

The men shifted, weapons raised, but their leader's eyes slid to my stomach. "The child belongs to Lord Jethro! Surrender right now, and perhaps you might live."

Fury surged in me. "He called this child a lie, and now he wants to claim it?"

The hunter smirked. "He's reconsidered, and my lord requires his heirs." My knees weakened, so that's it. He never wanted me, only the blood inside me is what he wanted.

Tristan's voice was a low snarl. "You'll not touch her!"

Steel clashed and sparks flew. Tristan moved like shadow and fire, striking, parrying, cutting through their lines. One hunter broke past him, rushing toward me as I grabbed the fallen dagger, my heart pounding rapidly. "Stay back!"

He sneered. "You can't even..." I stabbed him before he finished his statement and the blade sank into his arm, his scream split the air. "Ahhh!"

My own hands shook, but I held on. "I can."

Tristan finished the last man, blood spraying across the leaves, then he turned to me, eyes narrowing at the dagger in my grip. "Not bad."

I dropped it, trembling. "I never want to do that again."

"You will," he said simply, wiping his blade clean.

I did not answer him and just looked away. Meanwhile, when dawn broke, the dead lay buried, with the forest eerily silent. Tristan cleaned his sword, his tone harsh. "Jethro won't stop, I know he'll send more and stronger ones."

I hugged my knees. "Why now? He cast me out, and he refused this child, so why send hunters?"

Tristan's jaw tightened. "Because Lydia must have whispered in his ear."

My stomach twisted. "You think Lydia fears me?"

"You should know better! She fears competition," Tristan said coldly. "If you return with Jethro's heir, she becomes nothing, and I'm sure she won't want to risk that."

I shuddered at Lydia, my own stepsister always smiling sweetly while stealing what was mine, Jethro, who had sworn himself to me only to parade her into my place.

Tristan saw my expression and leaned closer. "Hate them, and it will keep you alive and angry."

I whispered, "I don't need reminding."

Two nights later, while resting in an abandoned barn, Tristan returned with grim news. "From your parents," he said, tossing a letter onto the hay.

I snatched it up and saw the Duskbane seal burned into the parchment. My hands shook as I read: To all concerned, we, the House of Duskbane, sever ties with Serah. We declare no blood connection, or obligation, no responsibility. Any claims she makes about us are false. Any child she bears is not of our concern.

The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. "They… disowned me again publicly."

Tristan's expression was sober because he saw how those words broke me more. "Cowards! They grovel to Jethro to save themselves," he spat.

"They were my parents," I whispered.

"No." His voice was sharp. "They were your chains, and you're free of them now because they aren't worth calling parent."

I scoffed because freedom felt like a knife twisting in my chest. By morning, the letter's news had spread through Tristan's camp. One mercenary muttered, "Her own parents cast her out. No wonder Jethro wants nothing to do with her."

Another snickered. "The child might not even be his."

I froze, every word slicing deeper into my skin before I could respond. Tristan's voice boomed. "Silence!"

The men stiffened, and Tristan's gaze swept the camp like fire. "She is under my protection. Question her again, and you will answer to me!"

Whispers died instantly.

Tristan turned to me, lowering his voice. "Don't listen to them, they're saying nonsense."

But I had already heard, and every whisper reminded me of the vow I had made under the storm: I will return stronger, and they will all regret this. That night, as the camp quieted, Tristan sat beside me by the fire. "You're angry," he said.

I laughed bitterly. "I'm furious at Jethro, Lydia and my parents, even at myself!"

"Good," he murmured. "Use it."

I looked at him. "And what about you, Tristan? What do you want from all this? Aren't you ashamed of me?"

For the first time, his smirk faded and his eyes, red and weary, held mine. "I want Jethro's house to burn."

"And you think I'm the spark?" I asked softly.

His silence was answer enough. The next day, scouts returned with word: Jethro had doubled his patrols. Lydia was paraded daily through the capital, showered with jewels and praise, and my parents... oh, they stood proudly at Jethro's side, as though I had never existed.

Tristan's hand tightened on the report until it crumpled. "They mock you openly all the time, as if it is nothing to them."

My chest ached, fury mixing with grief. "They think I will be crying and planing on how to come back to them, but no!"

"Then remind them," Tristan said. "When the time is right, remind them all that they made a grave mistake."

But before I could answer, a scream pierced the camp. We rushed outside and one of the scouts staggered in, blood pouring from his chest. "H-hunters…" he gasped. "Not soldiers…"

Tristan caught him before he fell. "What is it?"

The scout's lips trembled. "Shadows… monsters… sent by the Veylen lord himself." My blood ran cold.

Tristan's jaw hardened. "Jethro has unleashed creatures of blood magic!" He turned to me, eyes blazing. "He won't rest until you and that child are gone."

The scout coughed one last time and went still. Tristan rose slowly, his sword gleaming in the firelight. "Prepare yourself, Serah." He looked at my stomach, then back at me. "They're coming... for both of you."