Cryst reached into his bag and pulled out the small lighter we had taken from the original base earlier.
He looked at me and said, "Cover me."
I nodded.
He closed his eyes for a moment and wrapped a thin thread of Fantasia around the lighter; it glowed faintly, like a spark ready to ignite.
I took it and threw it toward a building on the other side of the village. It crashed through a broken window.
Seconds later, it caught fire and exploded softly, breaking walls and setting dry wood inside.
The Fantasia thread burned brightly, filling the air with thick smoke that quickly spread, hiding the soldiers below.
While the soldiers shouted and ran, Cryst pulled the emblem from his pocket and threw it far into the forest.
"Let them chase that," he said quietly.
Then, with a calm but fierce look, Cryst summoned four small balls of flame, one for each leg of the watchtower.
The flames floated silently through the smoke and settled on the wooden beams supporting the tower.
Within moments, the wood started to burn, glowing red and cracking under the heat.
The flames grew, and the wood creaked and groaned under the heat and pressure.
With a final crack, the watchtower collapsed, crashing down in a cloud of dust and broken wood.
We used the cotton and bedding to reduce impact and quickly hid under all that rubble.
Just when we thought we could breathe, a loud wind hit us like a wave.
One swing from the knight leader's arm — and the smoke was gone. Completely gone.
The blast of air was so strong that some of the knights stumbled, almost falling over.
Cryst and I held onto the largest pieces of rubble, gripping them like our lives depended on it.
My heart was pounding.
Then his voice cut through, furious.
"Find my fucking badge in the next hour, or I'll bury every one of you right here!!!"
The soldiers scattered like ants. Yelling. Searching. Knocking things over. One of them nearly stepped on my hand.
I held my breath, trying not to move, not to blink.
Then one shouted, "Sir! I found it!"
Everything stopped.
I watched through a crack in the rubble as the knight leader marched over and snatched the emblem.
His face twisted like he had just been handed power itself.
Beside me, Cryst didn't move, but I could feel it. His body was tense. His fists were tight.
That emblem… meant more than they could ever know.
His tribe. His past. All of it tied to that one symbol.
But we stayed still. Silent.
The soldiers returned to the carriage. The noise faded.
And we were still under the rubble.
Safe.
…I think.
Just then, the leader yelled, "FALCOOO!"
From the dark sky, an eagle swooped down. It flew fast and landed on his shoulder like it had done a hundred times before.
The leader pointed toward the village. "Go. Find them."
The eagle took off again, soaring high. It circled once, then dove toward the old watchtower.
It landed on the edge, claws gripping the scorched wood.
It tilted its head, looking around. Then it let out a sharp screech.
The leader smiled. "So someone was here."
The eagle screeched again and looked straight ahead, not at the forest, not at the village…
But at Cryst.
A single eye in the rubble.
Watching.
Tracking.
Cryst saw it.
And he knew.
They were coming....