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Shy2Infinity

Professional daydreamer
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All it ever took was a spark to ignite the flame.

Everyone's enemy was the prince. A cruel and vengeful ruler. Someone who ruled with an iron fist. He took and pillaged and murdered, all for the sake of expanding his kingdom. His crimes were plenty. His own people were fearful of him. And they yearned to see an end to such madness. That was where she came in. She'd always been a rebel at heart, someone that defied the odds simply because she wanted to stand up against those wrongs. But everything was so much more complicated than she'd expected. Dear gods, how could she ever expect herself to so easily stand up against the prince?

Especially when he ended up being her Soul mate. Soul mates. A term she'd chosen not to believe, because who would honestly want to be stuck with a person they didn't choose? Least of all, someone as power hungry as the prince? And what if... Someone's Soul mate was abusive? Yet, that didn't change what happened when she met the prince for the first time. The absurd euphoria and elation that rushed her veins when they first laid eyes on each other. And then... the dance. Every spark that zipped through her veins was proof that they were soul mates. Every wonder filled gaze he shot her reassured her that they really were meant to be together.

None of that mattered though, because she was sent to assassinate the prince. All she had to do was ask him if he wanted to follow her to the gardens and make him close his eyes. Perhaps he was waiting for a kiss. If that were the case, then it made it all the easier. Or perhaps not so, as her fingers shook as she raised the dagger. Despite her shaking, it sank in all too easy. She should have left. She really should have left, but all she could find herself doing was kneeling there beside him. A hand cupped his face, tears flooding her eyes.

He was a tyrant, but in that moment, he looked just like a normal man.
 
There had been two things that had surprised Prince Dorian that night. The first one had been that wonderful, thrilling, magical dance that had sent every nerve in his body alight with fire, burning even through that wicked haze that clouded his heart and mind, drawing his true self so tantalizingly close to the surface that he could almost cast free the bonds that held his soul. Then she was luring him to the garden where no one else walked, a tantalizing idea that even the spelled side of him couldn't pass up.

Then came the second surprise. The sharp bite of steel as it sank into his breast, shattering the chains that bound him as it did so. Now all he could do is smile weakly, reassuringly, up at the beautiful creature that wept for him now. He cradled the hand against his cheek in his own, glad that his last moments had some warmth even as his body went cold. The other half of his soul that he didn't know he had been missing. Perhaps if they had met earlier, than.....No. There was no use for those thoughts now. He had to tell her, tell someone, the truth before it was too late. Before the last of his kingdom finally crumbled. He had to correct some of the sins he had committed. He wasn't looking for forgiveness from her, only hope that maybe she could be the key to stopping the evil rampant in the castle walls.

"Thank you," he gasped, unable to help the tears of relief catching at the corner of his ears as his life drained ceasing from his body. "Thank you, for....setting me....free.....She...she has to....be stopped." He coughed, his words interrupted by the surge of blood up his throat. "P-please.....please you have to...." His voice was growing weaker despite his efforts. He struggled to focus as he squeezed the warm hand against his cheek. "....please....ple....ase....." He rasped one last time, his eyes going dim as the last of his soul quietly slipped away.
 
As the prince slipped away from her, her eyes shot wide open. "No, no, no!" She felt for a pulse but it was safe to say that it was already gone. A gasp ripped from her throat as his skin turned increasingly cooler. This had all been a mistake, she was only just realizing. It felt like a part of her had been ripped right out of her chest. And what was that all about? That she'd 'set him free'? Who had to be stopped?! No matter how much she stared at the dead prince, there was no answer to be found.

There was no more time to think on it, however.

A shadow crept up into the garden, bringing with it a chill. She cast her forlorn gaze up, to see a woman dressed in the vibrant hues of a setting sun. The corners of her bright red lips quirked, and she almost saw it as a smile but whatever it was, it vanished quickly. Her face morphed into a look of horror and she held a hand to her mouth, as if she could stifle the gasp forming. Every sound she made was harsh in the silence of those gardens and she wondered what she looked like, looming over her dead son's body.

His blood was on her hands. Tyrant or not, the result was clear.

"Guards!" Ah... There it was. It didn't take long for guards to fan out and surround her, two lunging forward to make sure she wasn't about to get any bright ideas. The woman -- The queen took one look at her - and Cendrillon could almost believe that she was genuinely upset over her step son's death - and spat out, "Take her to the dungeons. She'll be sentenced to public execution right away!"

Her hands were bound and she was quickly pulled up to be forced to follow the guards. As she was led away, she tried to glance back at the prince's dead body, but a shove in the back quickly stopped all that -- "Keep moving, scum!"

She was thankful for the ice that wrapped around her heart.
 
There had been no great mourning for the loss of the tyrant prince, although there had been many whispers of execution of his assassin. No one would have ever thought it possible for an armed person to slip in unnoticed into the party, let alone be able to successfully murder their prince. The Queen, for her part, seemed to have acted swiftly to bring this execution about. There were more interesting rumors spreading throughout the city that caught the attention of the city-folk far more than the execution and death of the prince. Rumors of a masked knight that saved many a soul in the darkness of the city. There were many that claimed to have seen this hero but try as the guards did, they could never find anyone who had truthfully done so.

The whispered of him in the taverns, and the more unsavory folk exercised caution in their misdeeds. Many found themselves waking up tied in front of the guard stations around the city. He was the hero that the kingdom needed right now, some claimed. Others whispered of a revolution on the wind. And it had all started with the death of one prince, it seemed.
 
She had a lot of time to think about everything that had happened thus far, from her cold and lonely prison. The guards hadn't been kind, shoving her into her cell as they did. But that was to be expected, despite that she had killed a tyrant prince, she was still a murderer. It didn't take long for the verdict to be raised: That she was to be killed in two day's time. Honestly though, she... Hardly cared. She was numb. Apathetic to the way the guards treated her and heckle at her.

Her soulmate had been a murderer, but there was also something off here. He'd spoken like he hadn't been in complete control of his actions. Who was this She? Really, there was only one person that it could possibly be, but she wasn't sure she could believe it.

Every time she thought of him, her heart clenched. His pleading face rose up in her brain every time she strived to push it from her mind.

The gate door opened and a tray was thrust in, with little more than a piece of bread. There were two guards stationed outside, one of which that was going to slam the door shut once more. "Huh, you don't look like anything special now. How's it feel, knowing you're going to die for killing the prince?" With a scowl, he spit off to the side. "Pathetic."


Her hands were bound once more, and they ached. The rope bit into her wrists with every agonizing movement. The sun beat down harshly on the back of her neck and sweat gathered on the back and on her face. She squinted out to the crowd gathered below and found, to her surprise, that the crowd was strangely silent. With the harsh sunlight in her eyes, she couldn't quite tell what expressions the majority wore.

She wasn't sure what she rathered more. The silence or hissed accusations.

Unfortunately, she didn't have much time to study everything. A sharp poke in the back sent her stumbling forward. "Keep it moving!"
 
The silence was nearly deafening as he waited, hidden away from the eyes of the guards and crowds. For now. He had eyes on her. The one who had freed the kingdom from the clutches of the wicked prince. He wouldn't let her fall here. There was too much work to be done for the both of them.

He quietly slipped into the crowd, hood drawn up and shadowing the details of the intricate white mask he wore to hide his features. He wanted to make it a symbol, not of himself, but of the revolution. In order to do so, he had to save this little assassin first. He moved closer to the site, drifting through the silent sea of people. A daring rescue to spark the revolution. He smiled slightly to himself as he set his hand on the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it when the moment came.

The smile faded when he saw what condition she was in. The couple days locked away hadn't been kind to her, it looked like. She looked as if she had been grieving the whole time, grieving for a man that no one else would. His grip tightened on his sword. He had to save her, no matter the cost. The kingdom's survival depended on her's. She would become the symbol of the people, she had to. If she did not take up that mantle, then the revolution would be over before it could even begin. But the first step was to save her.
 
It was finally here. She was going to die today. At first, she was merely apathetic, not caring in the least if she was to die or not. The only thing that had made it all the better was that she had not seen the queen's face. It would've been like rubbing salt in the wound. As she stumbled forward, she withdrew her gaze and frowned at her wear. The fancy schmancy gown that she was wearing had seen better days. Tears marred the once perfect fabric and what fabric that had gone below the knees, she'd torn herself after all had been said and done. It was dirty and she could vaguely see the guards keeping her held there were both wrinkling their noses.

Whatever. They must have had plenty of prisoners that were beyond unclean. It wasn't her problem whether they were grossed out or not.

Her eyes lifted to the noose before her. Finally, she could put her life into someone else's hands. Once again, a sharp jab in her back prodded her into moving, towards the noose. And yet, despite that she was so ready, why did her heart beat so fast?
 
He waited patiently, watching as the guards prodded the poor woman towards the hangman noose. He had to be careful, time things just right, and then strike. Time seemed to slow as he saw his opportunity.

He vaulted up on the stage, unsheathing his sword in one smooth motion. The masked man barreled into one of the guards holding her, sending him onto his back. The force of the blow cast the hood from his head, letting the mask glitter brightly in the sun. He swiftly took down the other guard and cut free the bindings on her wrists, pressing a small blade into her hand.

"Down with the tyrants! Down with the Queen!" He bellowed over the commotion of the crowd. "Behold the revolution!"

He grabbed her arm. "Come with me. Quickly! Don't let go." He whispered and switched his grip to her hand, diving into the crowd with the hope to use the confusion to mask their escape.
 
She was about to step up onto the first stair when she heard a commotion. Gasps and yelps as a person vaulted up onto the stage. There was a moment where she stared at them and time seemed to slow as some part of her perked up and said, I know you. But before she could consider it, the masked figure barreled into one of the guards holding her. She stood, frozen, watching the hood fly back. The glitter of their mask momentarily blinded her. Faster than she could comprehend, the other guard was swiftly taken down. She was looking back at the guards struggling to get to their feet when the masked figure cut her bindings and pressed a small blade into her hand.

"Down with the tyrants! Down with the Queen!" She swiftly turned back to the masked figure, finding herself strangely tense. "Behold the revolution!"

How quickly things changed in a day. She wasn't sure what to do as they grabbed her arm and pressed a knife into her hand, all she knew was, she wanted to place her life into someone else's hands. Just for now. The masked figure's hand on her was strong, calloused, from a long life of fighting perhaps?

She swallowed, "Okay!" She did her best to ignore the rustle of the crowd along with the yelling as she followed the other.

"After them!" The words sent her heart thumping into her throat.
 
"This way!" He urged her, diving deeper into the confused masses for shelter. He drew his hood back up, covering the mask once more. He pulled her along urgently as the crowd began to panic with the surge of the guards. They ran with the flow of the scattering masses, the masked stranger keeping a sure grip on her no matter the jostling they went through.

Eventually they burst free of the dispersing crowd and onto an empty street, now deep into the slums of the city. He continued to urgently pull her along, knowing that they were not safe yet. He dragged her into a long abandoned house and finally let go. "We're still not out of the woods yet, but this will do until nightfall." He told her, barely even winded after the run. "Are you alright?" The masked man asked her, concern clear in his crystal blue eyes even under the mask. "I have some ointments here. Let me tend to your wrists." From under the cloak he produced a small sack that had hung on his belt, holding it up a little to show her. "You'll need them fixed up if we run into any fighting."
 
Every step along the road jolted through her whole being. It was all she could do to follow the mysterious stranger as the guards tried to chase them. Using the crowd as shelter was a good idea, but it also meant having elbows jammed into her side or dodging wayward hands or weaving in between bodies entirely. She was certain that she would have a myriad of entirely new bruises by the time they'd cleared a majority of the crowd. There were times that she was certain she'd have lost the stranger already if he didn't have such a tight grip on her hand. She chanced a glance behind them to see the guards still struggling to pass by the people.

When they burst out onto an empty street, she was gasping for breath. As she glanced around though, she realized that they were in the slums. Her legs were shaking so bad that she was starting to doubt that she could make them go another step. She didn't utter a single word as they dragged her along, limp as a rag doll. The stranger dragged her into a long, abandoned house and it was only then that they let go.

He started to speak and she looked away, gazing headlong out the window. She was essentially free now, but what did that mean for her? "Are you alright?" The words come as some surprise and she glances back at him. No, she was not okay. But he probably meant physically, right? All she could offer was a nod in response. Those eyes that gazed back at her stops her from answering at all. The concern there... It was misplaced. Did she deserve it at all?

The moment they pointed out her wrists, the pain came back full force. She winced and put a hand to one of her wrists, but the sudden movement made it hurt more. Bruises that were already turning purple encircled her wrists, a sigh that surprised her more than anything. After a moment, she held her hands out to him palm up. "Mm."
 
He was very gentle as he guided her to sit on the dirty floor, opening the sack and producing a small jar of ointment. He pushed back the hood once more so he could see his work a little better, revealing the white mask and golden hair once more. Taking off the lid and dipping in his fingers, he carefully smoothed the creme over the bruises. He stifled a wince of sympathy as he wrapped the first wrist and then focused on tending to the second. He nodded when he was done with her wrists, satisfied with his work.

He quietly eyed her up and down a moment, taking stock of the state her dress was in. After some thought, he unclasped his cloak and slung it over her shoulders. He would have to try and find her more suitable clothes, but this would have to do for now. The brown cloak had done much to hide the white clothes he had worn underneath. The delicate silver rose embroidered over his heart matched neatly with the fine silver workings on the mask. It seemed that the black boots he wore now were not the match to the rest of the outfit, probably so they wouldn't have drawn attention to him during the rescue, the same as with the cloak. He would have stood out far too much with such striking finery. Perhaps he had gotten far too lost in the fairy tales of great heroes to have chosen something a little more sensible.

"This is all I can do for now. Once we are clear of the city, there will be others that can help tend to the rest of those injuries." He told her quietly. "I can promise a hot bath, a good meal, and clean clothes where we're going."
 
She numbly sat on the dirty floor, her wrists still held for the other to tend to. It occurred to her that she was somewhat curious about her rescuer. As he pushed his hood back, she was able to once more get a glimpse of golden blond hair; hair that seemed to hold every trace of sunlight. But what she was more curious about, was the face beneath the mask. When his fingers finally touched the bruises, she couldn't help wincing. Her shoulders stiffened and she forced herself to bite her cheek, in order to keep the flinching held at bay. She only stopped when he began wrapping her wrists and the ugly, purple bruises were finally hidden from sight.

Looking up, she noticed him eyeing her up and down. Feeling somewhat subconscious, she curled one hand around her other arm. But all he did was wrap his cloak around her shoulders. And yet, even that was enough to nearly make her flinch away. She could barely see beneath the hood, with it casting everything into shadow. She peeked beneath the hood at him and her eyes immediately landed on the silver rose embroidered around his heart. She remembered, suddenly, what he said on that stage: "Down with the tyrant! Down with the Queen! Behold the revolution!" He was with the rebels, clearly. But why save her? What use was she?

She brushed her nails along the edges of her bandages, pressing her lips together. "Mm..." She looked away for barely a moment, to curb the increasing urge. But when she was curious, nothing could stop her. And so, her mouth fell open. "Why did you save me?" Her voice was somewhat hoarse from ill use and she couldn't help wincing once more. Yet, that wasn't enough to stop her. "I may not be of use to your rebellion. I'm not a fighter; I'm an assassin." She looked away then, thinking back to the prince's dying face and she had to fight back the bile. "All my fights are done in the shadows, not in broad daylight. So why take that risk?"
 
He smiled gently at her. "My dear, you have done more for the revolution in one night, with one blade, than the rest of the rebels have done during this whole movement." He carefully took her hands up in his own. "You single-handedly snuck into a royal party, lured the fool Prince away, and took down one of the tyrants. I'd say you've been plenty useful already." He gave her hands a gentle squeeze before releasing them. "Besides, anyone who is willing to help take down those tyrants before they take down the kingdom is an ally in our book." He stood, carefully dusting off his pants before going to one of the house's windows, glancing outside for a moment.

Satisfied that there were no guards lying in wait, he turned to her again. "If I was thinking I would have brought some food and water along for you. I apologize." He offered her another smile. "I should have been far more prepared to welcome a Lady to my humble abode." He chuckled lightly and bowed to her. "I shall make it up to you once it's safe to leave."
 
That cursed smile made her heart shoot up into her throat. It wasn't meant for someone like her; an assassin that hurt people when they least expected it. It was almost like he fancied them equals. She was surprised as he took her hands into his own, and doubly surprised at the stupid electricity that zipped up her arms from the contact. But as he spoke, sickness turned her stomach and she had to look away, or she was certain that she'd get sick. Like everyone else, he didn't know what she did. As he gently squeezed her hands and released them, she looked away. It was only after he went to the window that she muttered, "I didn't do it for any of you."

Her reason had been completely selfish. She'd known that the prince had been her soulmate for a long, long time. Hell, the feeling she got every time she saw him making some speech would suggest as much. And the thought that her soulmate could be some tyrant was just... She hated it, hated him. So she used it to her advantage, knowing that the prince couldn't resist her, his own soulmate.

Thankfully, there were plenty of places beneath the city's oh-so-perfect idyllic life that she could learn the art of the assassin. Everyone that asked her always got the same answer, that she wanted to assassinate him because of all the sins he's committed. And while that might have been part of it, she was not about to give up the part truer than that. If anyone had found out that he was her Soulmate, she could've been killed. Or maybe even used as a bargaining chip against him.

The Soulmate connection was everything in this world.

The formal way he acted towards her made her flush immediately. She looked away with a frown. "Ew, you're treating me like I'm some noble lady when I'm just a measly assassin." Then she paused and took a lock of her hair between two fingers, considering it. Later, she would have to cut it but perhaps not now, when she was still so easily recognizable in those rags of a dress.
 
He laughed softly. "Ah, but I do see a noble lady. Not noble by blood, but by action. I'd say that's the far greater of the two." He leaned against one of the walls, crossing his arms loosely. "Speaking of, does my Lady have a name by which I may call her? Or shall you remain my Lady for the time that we shall know each other?" The tone was almost lightly teasing, and his eyes sparkled playfully. "While I could oblige such a title, I'm not so sure how long we could go without me learning your name."
 
She couldn't help wondering if her rescuer was a nobleman himself. Not noble in the way he seemed to think of it, but he almost had the air of nobility... A commoner would never address her like he does. She reached for her face, feeling for a bruise that she hoped was fading. Those guards certainly hadn't been kind to her in her short stay as prisoner. Honestly, she wondered how the castle's denizens could care so little that their prince had apparently been a tyrant.

... Ah, he was talking to her again. She glanced up, considering him with a frown. A name... Did she dare give him her true name? It was a lengthy pause, where she tried to figure out if she could trust him. Well, he'd saved her from being hanged and really, what did she have to lose at this point? She let out a short breath, "My name's Cendrillon, but I'm called Cinder by almost everyone that knows me." She wasn't sure what to do with his teasing. She certainly wasn't about to reciprocate it. "And what about you?" Cinder proceeded to gesture a hand vaguely. "What am I to call you, or am I supposed to just refer to you as my Knight in shining armor?"

And abruptly, her nose wrinkled at the thought. "Please, no."
 
He laughed. "My dear Cinder, I have no armor, I'm afraid. But please, I have no name worthy of giving to my Lady. I am only The White Knight come to deliver this kingdom from the darkness that has plagued it since the rise of the wicked Queen and tyrant Prince. The gods rest the soul of our dear passed King."

While the words came smoothly enough, there was an undercurrent to them that was hard to touch on. "Address me as you will. I shall answer however you call me."
 
She squinted up at him, and it seems that her nose wrinkled even further. "Ah, I see. So you're an idealist." Getting onto her knees, she forced herself up through her aching legs. The run had tired her out. Usually, she started the day with exercise but while she was imprisoned, she hadn't really done anything for two whole days. Influenced by apathy, she'd just waited for her death day. Once again, she couldn't keep from imagining the prince's face, his cooling cheek beneath her fingers...

Snapping herself out of it, she ignored the roiling sickness in her stomach and went to the opposite wall. And as she rested against the wall, she considered him. There was something about the way he spoke that made her hesitate. Some sort of... Tone, that he used. But with his mask hiding every miniscule change in expression, she didn't know how to explain it. She also couldn't help wondering if there was something to his flowery words.

She wasn't fooled. There was no way he was in the rebellion just for the good of all. There must be more at stake for him. With a huff, she shrugged. "Fine, then I'll call you Knight."
 
"Then Knight I shall be." He bowed to her with a flourish. He looked out the window again as he straightened, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It seems as the sun will set on us soon, Cinder. This pace will be much more relaxed, though, I promise you. We will stay in the shadows and go to the secret entrance in the walls. From there we will make it to the hidden place that the rebels have made. You'll be safe there. I can promise a bed to sleep in as well. You'll be welcomed with open arms."
 
Him being so weirdly nice set her on edge. Made her think that there was something more to it than she was thinking, and she didn't live as long as she did by not being paranoid. And yet, there was some part of her that couldn't think of him as anything but a good - if dramatic - guy. She listened to him speak and tried to decide if the plan was sound, but really, what other plan did they have? She chanced a glance out the window at the setting sun and self-consciously pulled the hood tighter over her head, stuffing her locks of hair back out of sight. All she could hope was that she wasn't easily recognizable like this.

If anything, she ought to be seen only as a street urchin.

"We have to get there first," she answered and lifted her chin somewhat. There was the spark of a challenge in her gaze that had not been present before. "The queen won't care that that it's night time, she'll tighten the security regardless. She may not care that her step son is dead, but she still has to act the part, or else her reputation will plummet."
 
Something strange passed through his eyes at the mention of the Queen's impassiveness to the death of the Prince, but it was as quickly hidden as it had come making one wonder if it had even been there in the first place. Knight smiled to cover the moment. "Well, even if security does tighten, it won't be much of a problem. The passage through the walls was something long forgotten by the kingdom. It was a stroke of luck the rebels found it, to be honest. But it has made coming and going unnoticed much easier."

He straightened off the wall and came over to her, more firmly covering her head with the hood of the cloak and gently tucking away a loose lock of her hair. "I'm sorry I didn't bring something a little more to your size, but it'll keep you covered at least. Then we can get you into something a little more comfortable than that dress. Such a shame it was ruined." He added almost absently before glancing out the window, seeing that twilight was now upon them. "Ready to go?"
 
She was watching him intently, so she saw it when something passed through his gaze, but try as she might, she couldn't even begin to hazard a guess as to what that thing was. And it had happened so fast, she almost wondered if she was imagining it. She crossed her arms and bit the inside of her cheek. It occurred to her then, that she actually didn't know if he was really on her side or not. What if he was just pretending to be? His talk on saving this kingdom from the "darkness" was way too idealistic, what if it was just a convenient story? Then again, if he was planning on tricking her, he likely wouldn't have handed her a knife.

"I see..." Pushing from the wall, she went to go to the window... But him coming over to her stopped her. She pressed her lips together, forcibly resisting the urge to get prickly. He hadn't shown her any reason why she should distrust him, she clung to that and tried to roll the tension out of her shoulders. Yet, all Knight did was pull the hood more firmly over her hair and tuck away a loose lock of hair. A frown crossed her lips as she peeked out at him under the edge of her hood.

For a moment, she didn't speak. Simply listening to him talk, she heard that note again. The note that mentioned some kind of... Familiarity? "It's fine," she breathed. "I went to the ball full well knowing that it was going to be ruined." And besides, she rather hated dresses. It made her feel awkward and... Exposed? As Knight turned to the window, she tightened her grip around her knife. Whatever was going to happen, she was going to see this through. No matter the cost.

"I'm ready."
 
He nodded at her and then lead her to the door. "We'll walk this time. Running will just draw attention to us." He ipebed the door, peeking around before motioning her to follow.

He lead her through winding streets for a while before they finally reached to wall. This section was still a part of the slums and didn't see regular tending, allowing great vines to climb the stone there. He paused a moment, thinking, before heading to one section and patting around a moment. The vines gave way slightly and he smiled.

He pulled aside the vines, revealing a door through the wall, hidden by the growth there, opening the door he stood aside. "Ladies first. It goes straight through."
 
She crept forward a few steps and waited for him to give her the okay. Already, she was starting to feel jittery with unshed energy. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he motioned for her to follow. Cinder tried to keep her energy under control as she followed, hiding her knife hand beneath the folds of the cloak.

As he lead her through the winding streets, she tried to keep her head down and only focus on the other's feet. The thought that someone might recognize her pounded through every beat of her heart. There were many times when she was afraid that a guard might notice them and call out to them, but that didn't happen and she had to loosen her hold on her knife. After a while, they reached the wall; a section that definitely didn't see great tending. The Queen or prince certainly didn't put gold into keeping this place maintained, she thought bitterly as she considered the vines.

Although in the end, perhaps that was for the best? As Knight proceeded to show her a hidden door. She clenched at the folds of her cloak and gulped. It suddenly occurred to her that she was nervous. She considered the mysterious person, frowning as he offered for her to go through first. She glanced back, searching... But the whole way there, she hadn't sensed anyone following them.

"Okay," with a nod she pushed on through the door.
 

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