CHAPTER 333: THE ONE WHO WAITED IN THE TREES

The One Who Waited in the Trees

The sudden snap-crack of wooden wheels over rough ground shattered the tranquility of the rich green forest. Tak—Tak — Tak! The rhythmic trot of horse hooves resounded between giant trees, every beat thudding like a soft but persistent heartbeat into the untamed quiet.

Sunlight pierced the dense overhead canopy, bursting into disjointed shards of gold that went leaping across moss-covered boulders and wildflower clumps swaying in the drowsy forest wind. The air was heavy with damp earth and new leaves’ perfume, bearing the faint, primeval musk—like an echo from bygone centuries. Birds sang overhead, their songs intertwining perfectly with the creak of boughs, to create a living symphony that seemed immune to time.

But beneath that loveliness, a primitive thing awoke. Out of the depths of the forest’s center came a growl—long, raw, and wild. The growl bellowed through the trees like a warning, followed by the scream of some unseen killer. The forest itself seemed to bristle, its tranquil facade cracking just far enough to remind any traveler that this was not civilized country.

The winding track before it traveled between heavy boles and snarled vines, deeper into the unseen source of those noises. Along it came the rattle and creak of passage—a tiny caravan forging through the final stretch of frontier.

The past eight days, they had spent traveling, fleeing the burned-out ruins of the Silver City. Today, their travels took them along the western edge of the Moonstone Kingdom, along this ancient forest that represented the last approach to the foreboding walls of Blackthorn City.

Every carriage was drawn by a team of white magical horses, coats glinting softly whenever the sun touched them. Steam rose from nostrils in the chill air, muscles rippling beneath sleek skin as they trotted with precise discipline. Plain-robed drivers urged them onward with smooth ease, hands gripping the reins as the wheels groaned and jarred over irregular roots and rocks.

The carriages themselves were simple—coarse-hewn frames constructed for durability rather than show. But their riders were scarcely normal.

Lurking in the cover between trees, three silhouettes stepped quietly along, keeping pace with the caravan. Black Ronan’s sharp eyes never wavered from the road, his stance tense with the still patience of a hunter. Johnny hung back about half a step, his face inscrutable, and a third friend stuck to deepest cover, their face eaten whole by darkness. They moved like ghosts—there, but not seen.

In the front carriage, the air was warm, still. Several women sat together, their simple traveling clothes doing little to hide their beauty. Rias’s fiery red hair entrapped stray shafts of sunlight like silken strands ignited. Cynthia’s serene black eyes were keen, calculated, taking in everything. Aria maintained her dignity like a queen at court, and Kyra and Syra—both green-eyed, the one demure, the other daring—reflected one another in wordless opposition. Lira’s silver-white hair shone with a light even in darkness, Mia’s eyes lowered demurely towards the ground, and Tsubaki sat rigidly upright, self-disciplined even in repose.

Fey, Rui, Mona, Lena, Mira, Chloe, and Lilyn brought the circle full circle—differing from one another in every way, but all held together by a common string of loyalty and duty. The gentle hum of their voices filled the air, but threading through the quiet repartee was an undercurrent of tension.

They smiled sporadically, even joked with each other in whispers, but the edges of those smiles were worn. Concern hung in their eyes, an unspoken reality none of them uttered. This travel was not one of amusement.

They smiled occasionally, even releasing gentle taunts in quiet tones, but their smiles were fragile, the warmth tattered at the edges. Below every look, deep within their eyes, apprehension hung like a ghost they refused to acknowledge. This was not a vacation—this was a journey undertaken with hidden strain.

Aria was the first to break the silence. Her voice was low, measured, and weighed down by the burden she attempted to keep suppressed. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her lips pursed into a thin line before she uttered the words. "Today’s the eighth day... but darling hasn’t called us."

Rias exhaled slowly, her fingers combing through the silky length of her crimson hair, the motion as restless as the look in her eyes. "I’ve tried everything—telepathy, messages—again and again. Nothing. He doesn’t answer at all."

Lira bent forward, the light from the dim carriage illuminating the silver-white strands of her hair, her icy blue eyes shining faintly with hope that was too delicate to handle. "Perhaps he’s all right... just too deep in cultivation to answer.

Tsubaki, her stance as calm as ever, shook her head with the measured forbearance of a knight who knew better than to deceive herself. "If it’s so, then we can’t interrupt him. Nonetheless... I worry."

Fey crossed her arms over her chest, her tone resonating with a soft cutting edge. "Master may be near a breakthrough. That’s significant... but he should still give us some notice."

Rui coerced a small reassuring smile, but her eyes gave her away. "He’ll return, stronger than ever. We have to hold on to that."

For one heartbeat, the tension eased. A faint, brittle smile went around, fragile as glass, just enough to remind them that they weren’t here alone.

Then—snap, crash and loud—the silence was shattered by a crisp beep-beep.

Rias’s hand automatically pulled out a small, black communication crystal from her storage ring. The silky surface vibrated softly in her hand. She touched it, her voice firm although her wariness was certain. "Yes? This is Rias."

The response appeared immediately, the voice warm and filled with import. "My lady, we’re reaching Blackthorn City. What are your commands? Do we go in with the carriages or find a different way?"

Rias’s gaze drifted to the carriage window, where endless green rolled past under the fading light. "How much forest is left before the city?"

"About five kilometers of dense woods, my lady."

"Understood," she replied, her tone sharpening into command. "Stop the carriages two kilometers before the forest’s edge. We’ll decide the next move there."

The crystal faded, the link broken. Rias gripped it for a moment longer, her thumb tracing its surface, her mind flashing into consideration. It was the same type of crystal Leon used to give to Ronan and Johnny—an enchanted connection that paid no mind to space, delivering voices instantly around the globe.

She turned to the others. No one said anything. Their faces were inscrutable masks over the same corrosive fear.

What about reaching Sister Nova?" someone asked softly.

Rias shook her head; her eyes darkened with something more serious than her voice. "We can’t. We don’t have a direct connection with her. Previously, Darling could connect with her telepathically, but he’s not responding to us... and without him, Nova is out of our control."

Kyra’s brow furrowed in consideration. "Then. what about sending someone into the city? Tell Nova we’re here in person?

Aria acted fast, the rejection cutting in her tone. "Too dangerous. The city gates require proof of identity. If we say we are from Silver City, that will raise questions—everyone is aware it’s nothing but ruins anymore. They all who lived are assumed dead."

Lira spoke softly, her lips twisting into a small, bold smile. "What if we sneak one in?"

Tsubaki’s tone fell lower, heavy with news no one was eager to receive. "No. We don’t take chances like that in the present moment. This is war, and the safety of the city is at its highest. Vellore’s armies are pushing forward faster than anyone thought possible—the southern frontier’s already breached, fifty kilometers deep, and the eastern front still smolders with fights every day."

The words hit like a chilly gust. The party was quiet, each woman’s heart tightening with the bleak reality. The same unspoken question was in all their heads—could defenses in Blackthorn City really hold?

The answer would have to come later.

The carriage lurched to a stop, wheels squealing on the stone road. Horses whinnied suddenly, the pungent smell of their fright filling the air. The surprise stop set a shudder down the line—behind them, a dozen more carriages rattled to a standstill. Seventy-seven in all, now packed together in strained silence.

The women shared swift, interrogating looks. In silence, they alighted from their carriage, skirts rustling against shiny boots as their gazes scanned the road before them, searching for the cause they’d been compelled to halt.

They saw it.

Beyond the trees, shadows moved—and a unit of soldiers stepped out. All of them were women, wearing shining green armor that picked up the pale light like glass picks up fire. Their arms were already raised, blades bared, spears at the ready, eyes as keen as the blades they bore. Not a single woman wore a look of youth or doubt; these were soldiers tempered in the midst of war.

More motion agitated behind them. Darker-clad figures emerged from the shadows—camouflaged, merging with the woods, but unmistakably prepared to attack. They were at attention with stiff discipline, their presence weighing heavily upon the senses.

Between their ranks, three recognizable shapes stepped forth—Black Ronan, Johnny, and another man—silent, but exuding command.

"Ladies," Ronan intoned, low but unbending. "We’ll take care of this. You all should go back to your carriage."

Rias’s chin lifted in defiance. "No need. We’re capable of defending ourselves."

Black hesitated for a breath, but gave a short nod. He said nothing more. In Leon’s absence, Rias held the authority here, and he would not challenge it.

Rias’s gaze locked on the frontmost warrior in green. Her tone was clipped, commanding. "Who are you? Why block our path?"

The tallest among them stepped forward. Her armor gleamed a deeper shade of green than the rest, almost black in the shadows. "We’re not your enemies, Lady Rias," she said, voice calm but firm. "We’ve been ordered to halt your procession."

A flash of shock brushed Rias’s eyes. This stranger addressed her by name. "Who are you?" she challenged, her gaze narrowing to a razor’s edge. "How do you know me? And why do you stop us?"

Behind her, a few of her own warriors moved quietly, hands drifting to swords hidden under traveling cloaks. Steel rustled softly as blades slipped from scabbards.

The air grew so thick with tension that it became almost palpable.

The green-armor woman didn’t blink. "Our leader ordered us to stop you," she spoke, her voice tinged with obligation. "And our leader inquired about your name."

Before Rias could respond, the forest did.

A low laugh coursed through the underbrush, soft but with an unmistakable authority. "Huh... Look at you. All grown up. A bit more mature... a bit bolder than before. I like this change in you."

All eyes turned, the noise drawing them to the shadows between the trees.

A figure emerged from the darkness into the faint light—defined by twilight, its edges sharp but ungraspable.

The women and soldiers stood frozen, shock and cautious recognition spreading like a ripple across the clearing.

The forest waited.