Tragedy of Divinity

Chapter 31: A Chase Through Eryndral

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city of Eryndral. What had been a day of tension and anger had quickly spiraled into chaos. The trio, still reeling from their confrontation in the Court of Flowers, was now being pursued by a battalion of elven soldiers. Their footsteps echoed through the streets, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding of their hearts.

Seraphine and Lucian were surprisingly calm in the midst of the chaos. For Seraphine, this was just another day of running—another moment in a life defined by evasion and calculated moves. Lucian, on the other hand, was no stranger to conflict. His face was cold, his movements precise. Even as they raced through the cobblestone streets, dodging market stalls and sidestepping surprised pedestrians, he remained eerily composed.

"Don't slow down!" Lucian barked at Seraphine, though she didn't need the reminder. They were in sync, their strides almost identical as they moved with the practiced ease of those who had lived through worse.

Seraphine barely acknowledged his words, but a slight flicker of amusement danced in her eyes. Running from enemies was something she'd done more times than she could count. It wasn't the escape she was concerned about; it was the consequences that would come when they were caught.

But Lucian… he wasn't just running for his life. He was sending a message. As they ran, he pulled his bow from his back, the motion swift and fluid. Without breaking stride, he notched an arrow and let it fly, the sharp twang of the bowstring slicing through the air. The arrow struck one of the soldiers square in the chest, knocking him back. The soldier crumpled to the ground, a gasp of surprise leaving his lips as he fell unconscious.

"Nice shot," Seraphine murmured, though her voice lacked the usual enthusiasm she might have shown. She was already calculating the best route out of this mess.

"Don't get distracted," Lucian snapped, his eyes scanning the darkening streets ahead. "More will come."

Indeed, as the sounds of their pursuers grew louder, it was clear that the soldiers weren't going to let them escape so easily. The city was sprawling, but it was a labyrinth of winding alleyways and towering buildings. Lucian knew this place better than anyone, though, and he was leading them down narrow passages that would be difficult for their pursuers to follow.

But then there was Quintin.

Quintin, with his backpack full of food, was trailing behind. His face was pale, and his breath came in frantic gasps. His legs, though long, seemed to be struggling to keep up with the pace of the two more experienced runners.

"Wait for me!" Quintin yelled between frantic breaths, his voice high-pitched with panic. "This… this is way too much, I can't—!"

He stumbled over his own feet as he tried to pick up the pace, his arms flailing wildly as his oversized backpack bounced and swayed with each clumsy step.

Lucian shot a look over his shoulder, his brows furrowing. "For the love of all that is holy, Quintin, you need to move faster!"

"I'm trying!" Quintin squealed, his voice cracking. "This damn bag is too heavy!"

Seraphine glanced back, her eyes briefly catching the sight of Quintin struggling to keep up. A small, rueful smile tugged at the corner of her lips—she couldn't help but feel a bit of sympathy for the guy. But there was no time for pity.

"Quintin, listen to me," Seraphine called out in a steady tone. "Drop the bag if you have to. Just move!"

But Quintin, in his panic, seemed to have heard nothing. His eyes were wild, darting back and forth between the incoming soldiers and the path ahead, his every muscle screaming in protest.

"Why did I bring all the food?!" he wailed, his voice almost comically loud against the otherwise tense silence.

"I swear," Lucian muttered under his breath, as he glanced over his shoulder again to see how far behind the soldiers were. There were more of them now, perhaps a dozen or more, their lithe bodies moving through the streets with a grace and speed that could only belong to elves.

"Quintin, drop the bag!" Lucian barked again, his tone now laced with impatience. "We can't keep running like this forever!"

Quintin, still floundering with the heavy pack, seemed to be in a daze. He was panicking, thinking of everything that could go wrong—food was expensive, and they'd need it if they were going to survive in the wilderness. The idea of just leaving it behind seemed almost impossible.

But Seraphine wasn't giving him a choice. With a quick glance, she reached back and yanked the strap of the bag free from his shoulders, tossing the heavy pack into a nearby alley. It clattered against the cobblestones, the contents spilling out—a small avalanche of food packages and supplies that would have to be abandoned.

"Seraphine!" Quintin gasped, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "The food—!"

"There's no time!" she snapped, her voice sharp as she focused on the path ahead. "You'll get it back later. Right now, we need to move."

For a moment, Quintin hesitated, still looking back at the pile of food with a mixture of panic and longing. But Seraphine's gaze was unwavering, and slowly, he forced himself to turn back and focus on keeping up.

As they ran, the sounds of the soldiers grew louder. But Lucian didn't seem to care. His eyes were steely, focused ahead, his every step purposeful.

"I can't do this forever," Seraphine muttered under her breath as they rounded a corner, the heavy footfalls of the elves echoing behind them. "We'll need a plan."

"We'll make one when we get there," Lucian responded grimly. "For now, just keep moving."

Seraphine nodded. They weren't just being chased; they were being hunted. And if they didn't get out of the city soon, they'd be cornered with nowhere to go.

The race wasn't over yet.

End of chapter 31.