Marcus Monroune

The search had been going on for days, maybe weeks. No one said it aloud, but exhaustion was weighing heavily on everyone's steps. Even so, the boy didn't stop. He walked ahead, his gaze unwavering, surrounded by his guards dressed in dark clothing, like shadows following him without asking questions. The order was clear: find her. But they didn't know exactly what had happened or who had taken her.

They only knew that she was important.

The clues were scattered fragments: an incomplete message, an abandoned place, a rumor that vanished before they could confirm it. Every place they arrived at seemed to have been deliberately emptied, as if someone were always one step ahead. The boy didn't talk much. He observed, analyzed, remembered. He knew someone was playing with time… and with her.

—Don't let your guard down—
he said in a low voice as they walked along a wet path, surrounded by trees and silence.

The air felt strange there, as if the place held something it didn't want to be found. The guards moved cautiously, checking the perimeter. No one dared to suggest they might be late. No one dared to say it in front of him.

Then they saw her.

It wasn't a clear or heroic discovery. It was almost accidental. A figure on the ground, a few meters away, barely visible in the darkness and fog. The boy stopped dead in his tracks. No one spoke. No one moved at first.

It was her.

She stood there, badly wounded, motionless, as if time had left her behind. The silence grew heavier than any command. The guards waited for instructions, but he said nothing. He just stood there, watching from a distance, his breath held and his jaw clenched.

Don't show your feelings so quickly
-Go slowly and gently
Don't be so nice, be tougher but not too tough
-There are no victims, only one injured girl