Chapter 22

Serena moved her eyes with difficulty and extreme slowness, her blurry vision gradually focusing. What came into view was a low, blackened wooden roof, with several bundles of dried herbs she didn't recognize hanging in the corner. The air was filled with the mixed smells of firewood, herbs, and… something like fish.

She lay on a hard plank bed covered with rough animal hides, covered with a thick but not very clean wool blanket. A warm campfire flickered in the stone hearth in the center of the room, dispelling some of the chill and casting shimmering light on her face.

She didn't die.

This realization, like a belated tide, slowly overwhelmed her. She remembered the icy river, the suffocating pain, the despair of being swallowed by darkness... and then, here.

She wasn't reading a novel, nor was she dreaming. The bone-chilling cold, the near-death suffocation, the excruciating pain that made every cell in her body scream... it was so real, so unforgettable.

This is no longer the story she used to tell while lying on her soft bed, turning the pages of a book, and occasionally making a few comments about the plot.

This is a real world.

There is real pain, real coldness, and real danger that can easily take away life.

Lucien is not the stereotypical male protagonist on the pages of the book, the one who will later turn evil and be humiliated. He is a living, breathing man with immense power and a twisted obsession. His pursuit is real and deadly, enough to drive her to the brink of despair and nearly cause her to perish in the raging torrent.

She wasn't some villainous supporting character destined to die young, used to drive the plot. She was Serena Wilde, a flesh-and-blood person struggling to survive. She felt fear, despair, pain, and... resentment.

An unprecedented clarity, mixed with the lingering fear of surviving a catastrophe, washed over her like ice water. She could no longer cling to any wishful thinking of being a "premonition of the plot." This world had long since deviated from the trajectory of the book; every step was unknown, every step could lead to utter destruction.

The will to survive has never been so strong and pure. Not to fight against so-called "fate," but simply to... live.

She turned her stiff neck to look at the source of the sound.

Beside the fire sat a hunched old woman. She wore a dark dress covered in patches, her gray hair was casually wrapped in an old cloth, and her face was covered with deep wrinkles, like cracks in parched earth. In her hand she held a stone mortar and pestle, slowly pounding herbs inside. Her cloudy yet unusually sharp eyes, through the flickering firelight, were scrutinizing Serena without any politeness.

"What are you looking at?" the old woman said in a hoarse voice. "Even the river god won't take you in, you're lucky. Drink your medicine yourself when you wake up." She pointed with a wooden spoon to a steaming, suspiciously colored earthenware bowl by the hearth.

Serena opened her mouth, trying to speak, but only managed a hoarse sound; her throat hurt terribly.

The old woman scoffed, "You're lucky your throat isn't ruined after choking on so much muddy water. Drink slowly, or you'll choke to death and all the effort I put into pulling you out will be for nothing."

Did she save her? Serena looked at the old woman's calloused, large-knuckled hands, then looked out the window—it seemed to be somewhere on the riverbank downstream of the canyon, the scenery unfamiliar.

She struggled to sit up, but felt weak all over and a wave of dizziness washed over her.

"Stop it." The old woman didn't even look up, continuing to pound her medicine. "With your health, you're lucky to be alive. If you don't want to die, just lie there quietly."

Serena stopped trying to move. She lay on the hard bed, feeling the pain and weakness in her body, listening to the crackling of the firewood burning in the hearth and the monotonous, pounding sound of the old woman grinding medicine.

She slowly raised her heavy arm and moved little by little toward the bowl of bitter-smelling medicine. She wanted to live.

Serena's fingers gripped the rough rim of the earthenware bowl tightly, the warmth seeping through her skin and anchoring her back to reality from the chilling illusion of near death. Her throat still burned, each swallow feeling like a knife cutting, but she forced herself to ignore the discomfort, bringing the rim of the bowl to her chapped lips.

The medicine was thick and black, with a pungent, earthy, and grassy smell. She closed her eyes, abandoning all the etiquette and taste considerations of a noble lady, and swallowed the bitter liquid in small, firm sips, as if drinking life itself. The warm medicine slid down her aching throat and into her empty, spasming stomach, bringing a strange, supportive feeling.

The old woman stopped grinding the medicine, glanced at her with her cloudy eyes, seemingly surprised that she didn't complain or resist, and then resumed her indifferent expression.

After finishing the bowl of medicine, Serena slumped back onto the animal-hide cushion, her forehead beaded with cold sweat. She caught her breath, mustered a sliver of strength, and looked at the old woman in a still hoarse, broken voice:

"Thank you... for saving my life."

The old woman snorted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and simply picked up another handful of dry grass and threw it into the fire pit. "It was just a coincidence. I went to the river to gather firewood and saw you stuck in a crevice between the rocks like a rag doll."

Serena didn't press for details. She looked around the simple yet functional wooden hut, noticing fishing nets and several tools she couldn't identify hanging on the wall, and a half-processed animal hide in the corner. "Where is this...?"

“Lower Black Forest, not far from the border of Kador,” the old woman said succinctly. “Just call me Lim. I’m the only old woman here.”

The border of Kador! Serena's heart skipped a beat. She had actually been swept so far by the river, almost reaching Mara's planned destination!

Hope flickered again like a faint flame. But she immediately suppressed the impulse. Lim, though seemingly eccentric, had saved her and was clearly very familiar with the area. This might be the safest hiding place until she recovered and understood the situation.

She stopped speaking, conserving her energy, and quietly observed and pondered with her clear and determined blue eyes.

For the next few days, Serena stayed at Lim's riverside cabin. She was still weak, and her sprained ankle needed time to heal. Lim, though harsh in words, didn't mistreat her; the food she provided, though simple—grilled fish, wild vegetable soup, and hard rye bread—was enough to fill her stomach. The strangely flavored herbs were indeed effective, and her injuries were slowly improving.

She helped with whatever she could, such as watching the fire pit or organizing the herbs Lim had gathered. She learned quickly, silently and attentively. Lim would occasionally offer a word or two of advice about the use of a certain herb or where to find clean drinking water nearby.

Serena absorbed this knowledge with great eagerness. She no longer saw herself as a high and mighty duke's daughter, but as an individual needing to survive in a harsh environment, learning the most basic survival skills. Because the road ahead would likely depend on these.

She would also cautiously inquire about news from the outside world from Lim, without arousing suspicion. Lim seemed to have little contact with outsiders and limited sources of information, but from her sporadic complaints, Serena still gleaned some information—occasionally, unfamiliar faces who did not belong to the hunters or villagers could be seen moving around nearby, as if they were looking for someone.

A few days later, one evening, Serena's ankle had mostly healed, and she could walk with some ease. She sat on a wooden stool by the door, watching the sunset paint the river a golden-red. Lim was inside preparing dinner.

“Grandma Lim,” Serena suddenly spoke, her voice calm, “if… I want to get to Kador safely, how should I go?”

The sound of grinding herbs inside paused for a moment. Lim came out, leaned against the doorframe, and scrutinized Serena with her sharp gaze. "I knew you wouldn't stay long," she said hoarsely. "That road isn't easy to travel. The official passage is definitely off-limits; they've been cracking down hard lately. You can only take the mountain paths, which require bypassing patrols and watching out for anything in the forest." She pointed towards the dark forest.

“I know it won’t be easy.” Serena turned her head and met Lim’s gaze. “But I have to go.”

Lim stared at her for a long time, a hint of understanding flashing in her cloudy eyes. She didn't ask why, but turned and went back into the house. After a while, she came out with an extremely simple map drawn on tanned animal hide and handed it to Serena.

“Take this. The markings are some paths I know that are passable. They'll help you avoid most of the trouble. The rest depends on your luck and skill.” Her tone remained flat. “Once your foot is healed, you can leave. I, this old woman, won't cause any trouble.”

Serena clutched the rough yet precious map tightly, a complex warmth welling up inside her. "Thank you, Grandma Lim."

Lim waved her hand and turned back to tend to her fish soup.

Serena looked down at the winding lines and simple markings on the map. She gently moved her still slightly aching ankle, her eyes calm and resolute.

The morning mist, like a milky white veil, hung low over the river, blurring the outline of the Black Forest on the opposite bank. At the door of the cabin, Serena stuffed the last piece of hard rye bread into her backpack, which also contained a small packet of salt given to her by Lim, some dried herbs, and the precious animal hide map.

Lim stood inside the door, still expressionless, and handed over a leather water pouch and a smooth, sharpened wooden stick. "It's full of water. Take the stick; you can use it to scout ahead or defend yourself."

Serena took the water pouch, slung it across her body, and held the wooden stick firmly in her hand. "Thank you, Grandma Lim. I will remember your kindness."

"Let's go," Lim waved her hand, as if shooing away some trouble, "while the fog hasn't lifted yet. Remember the markings on the map, don't get lost. Be smart if you encounter anyone."

Serena nodded, took one last look at the simple wooden hut that had given her a chance to catch her breath and the eccentric but kind-hearted old man before her, then turned and stepped into the thick fog without hesitation, walking along the riverbank toward the first meeting point marked on the map.

Her figure was quickly swallowed up by the white mist.

Lim stood at the door for a while, until she could no longer hear any footsteps, before slowly closing the wooden door. Inside, only the faint crackling of the fire pit remained.

Following the map, Serena left the relatively easy-to-walk riverbank area and began to venture deeper into the forest. The path marked by Lim was less a road and more like tracks left by wild animals or shallow gullies eroded by rainwater. The terrain was undulating and the vegetation dense; she had to use a stick to push aside thorny bushes and carefully avoid slippery moss and loose rocks.

Her old ankle injury began to throb with pain after the long trek and the complex terrain, but she merely frowned, adjusted her pace, and continued on. Her pace was slow, but each step was exceptionally steady. She repeatedly reviewed the map in her mind, comparing it to the surrounding terrain features to ensure she remained on her course.

Around noon, she stopped to rest by a stream, ate some dry food, and quenched her thirst and soreness in her ankles with the cool water. She dared not linger too long, remaining constantly alert to her surroundings. The forest was far from peaceful; birdsong, animal roars, and the rustling of leaves—any unusual sound made her tense instantly.

In the afternoon, she encountered her first challenge: a near-vertical rock face that required climbing. The map only marked the direction with a simple arrow. The rock face was slippery, with almost no footholds. Serena looked up, took a deep breath, tucked her stick behind her backpack, and began to climb freehand. Her fingers dug into the crevices, her toes searched for any tiny protrusion, her body pressed tightly against the cold rock. Several times, she slipped, loose rocks falling down, her heart pounding in her throat, only managing to hold on by the strength of her arms.

When she finally reached the top of the rock, panting heavily, her arms and legs were trembling uncontrollably. But she had no time to rest; she immediately checked the map, confirmed her direction, and continued on.

As evening fell, darkness quickly descended. The forest grew dim, and nocturnal creatures began to stir, rustling and buzzing. Following the map, Serena found a relatively dry and sheltered spot nestled in a recess in the mountainside to serve as their campsite for the night.

She gathered some dry twigs and fallen leaves, attempting to start a fire using the most primitive method Lim had taught her—by friction. After countless failures, her palms turning red from the friction, she finally saw a wisp of smoke ignite the dry moss as dusk settled. The weak flame leaped up, dispelling some of the darkness and chill, and bringing a touch of psychological comfort.

She huddled by the fire, gnawing on cold rations, listening to the howls of unknown wild beasts in the distance, feeling waves of loneliness and helplessness washing over her. But she clutched the badge on her chest tightly, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames, her eyes still resolute.

That night, she barely slept, tending to the fire and keeping an eye on her surroundings.

The second day, the third day... the days passed in repetitive treks, vigilance, and brief rests. She encountered sudden mountain rain, getting soaked to the bone and shivering in the cold; she also nearly stepped on a brightly colored venomous snake coiled in the middle of the road, breaking out in a cold sweat; her rations quickly ran out, and she had to rely on the knowledge taught by Lim to identify some edible wild fruits and roots to fill her stomach, which tasted bitter and were difficult to swallow.

She didn't look back, nor did she stop. The markers on the map were left behind one after another. She felt like a stone polished by the harsh environment, stripped of all her delicateness and fragility, leaving only the instinct for survival and the obsession with reaching her destination.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, as she struggled to cross a ridge covered with low shrubs, following the map, the sight before her made her stop in her tracks.

Below the mountain ridge lies a relatively open valley. A narrow, rugged road, clearly man-made, winds its way through it. Further away, on the horizon, the vague outline of a cluster of buildings can be seen, their style quite different from that of the Empire. Most of them are low and constructed of stone, with a few towers with pointed roofs standing among them.

The last marker on the map points there.

Retokash, a border town in the Kador Federation.

She arrived.

She truly relied on her own strength to traverse the perilous Black Forest and reach Kador.

There was no ecstasy, no excitement, only a vast, almost exhausting calm that swept over her. She leaned against a nearby tree, slowly slid down to the ground, and gazed at the distant town—a place that represented relative safety and an unknown future—remaining motionless for a long time.

After resting for a while and regaining some strength, Serena stood up, dusted herself off, pulled her hood down lower, gripped her wooden stick tightly, and began to walk down the road leading to the town of Retokash.

Nestled in the embrace of grey-brown mountains, the town of Letokash is less a town and more a hybrid of a slightly larger border post and a settlement of nomads. The buildings are mostly rough stone houses or sturdy log structures, low and robust, their weathered exteriors telling tales of the harsh environment. The streets are compacted dirt roads, deeply rutted by vehicles, and the air is thick with the scents of livestock, dust, cooking smoke, and a faint, dry aroma from the distant desert.

Serena pulled her hood down, obscuring most of her face, and blended into the sparse flow of people entering and leaving the town of Retokash. Her attire was inconspicuous here—tattered clothes, dusty boots, and the wooden stick that served as her cane made her look like one of the countless wanderers making a living on the border or fleeing from the Empire.

However, the problem of survival immediately loomed before them.

She was penniless. The meager rations Lim had given her were long gone. Hunger burned like a raging fire, gnawing at the lining of her stomach. She needed food, shelter, and to blend into this unfamiliar environment without drawing attention.

She wandered around the town seemingly casually, but in reality, she was observing keenly. She saw the noisy tavern with its faded wine glass sign, the grocery store selling basic necessities, the sparks flying in the blacksmith's shop, and several homeless men leaning against the wall, their eyes cloudy and seemingly doing nothing.

She couldn't beg; that would be too conspicuous and likely get her into trouble. She needed to find some work, anything that could earn her a bite to eat or a few copper coins.

Finally, her gaze fell on the back door of a tavern that looked fairly clean, with wooden barrels piled up outside waiting to be washed. A burly woman wearing a greasy apron was struggling to drag a large sack into the room.

Serena hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward.

"Do you need any help?" Her voice was hoarse from thirst and a deliberate lowering of her voice.

The woman looked up, wiped her sweat, and sized her up. Although Serena was disheveled, the contours of her face, now cleansed of mud, and her overly clear blue eyes set her apart from the average homeless person.

"Two copper coins. Help me move these buckets to the well and clean them." The woman pointed to the pile of wooden buckets that reeked of sour, rotten wine, her tone flat. "Come to me for the money when you're done."

“Alright.” Serena didn’t haggle. She put down her backpack and wooden stick, rolled up her overly large sleeves, and began to move the heavy, smelly wooden barrels. The icy well water, the rough brush, the repetitive, mechanical labor—this was unimaginable hard work for a former duke’s daughter. Her arms quickly ached, and the cold water soaked her front, bringing a chill.

But she remained silent, simply burying herself in her work. The woman occasionally glanced at her, seemingly surprised by her silence and efficiency.

By the time all the wooden tubs had been washed and neatly stacked, it was already dark. The woman came over, inspected them, and, satisfied, took two well-worn copper coins from her apron pocket and tossed them to Serena.

"You're fairly efficient. We need someone to move some goods tomorrow morning, do you want to come?"

Serena caught the two warm copper coins and clutched them tightly in her palm. This was the first paycheck she had earned in this world through her own labor.

“Come on,” she replied briefly.

“Just call me Brenda.” The woman waved her hand. “You can stay in the shed next to the back door where they store firewood for the night, just don’t block the way.”

It wasn't much of a place to stay, just a corner that barely offered shelter from the wind and rain. But Serena was already incredibly grateful. "Thank you."

She took the two copper coins and went to the general store, carefully exchanging them for the cheapest rye bread and a small piece of cheese. Then she returned to the woodshed in the backyard of the tavern, found a relatively dry corner, curled up, and nibbled on the coarse food in small bites.

The food wasn't delicious, and it even felt a bit like it was cutting her throat, but the feeling of it going down into her empty stomach gave her a real sense of security that kept her going.

The town of Retokash was far from quiet at night. Loud voices emanated from the taverns, occasionally punctuated by barking dogs and other unidentified noises. The woodshed reeked of firewood and dust, and a cold wind seeped in through the cracks. Serena wrapped her tattered cloak tighter around herself, leaning against the cold wall, gazing at the dim lights of the town filtering through the cracks outside the woodshed.

The days of struggling to survive in the small town of Retokash passed slowly but steadily. Serena spent three nights in the woodshed in the backyard of the tavern, earning meager copper coins and a little food by doing odd jobs provided by Brenda—carrying goods, washing dishes, and peeling potatoes.

Her body gradually regained some strength through arduous labor and meager meals; calluses formed on her palms, and her skin bore the marks of time. Her blue eyes remained clear, yet held a maturity and vigilance beyond her years. She constantly observed the strangers in town, especially those with imperial accents or whose behavior clashed with the border customs. Fortunately, the town of Retokash was a melting pot of people, with new faces appearing and disappearing daily, and she didn't attract much attention.

On the fourth day at dusk, she had just finished her day's work and exchanged two copper coins for a small piece of hard cheese. Just as she was about to return to the woodshed, a figure silently appeared at the entrance of the alley, blocking the last rays of the setting sun.

Serena tensed up instantly, her hand stealthily reaching for the wooden stick tucked into her lower back.

The figure took a step forward and stepped into the dim light. His clothes were tattered, his face bore fresh scratches and weariness, but Serena would never mistake his sharp, calm eyes.

“Mara,” she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief and immense joy.

Mara rushed forward and grabbed her arm, the force almost causing her pain. Mara's gaze quickly and carefully swept over her entire body, confirming that although she was thin and disheveled, she did not seem to be seriously injured. "You're alright." Mara's voice was hoarse and dry, carrying the weariness of a long journey, yet with a sense of relief and strength.

“I’m fine.” Serena grasped her cold, rough hand in return, her eyes welling up with tears. “You… how did you find me? Are you hurt?”

“A minor injury,” Mara said succinctly, glancing warily around. “This isn’t the place to talk. Come with me.”

She led Serena by the hand, navigating familiar alleyways that reeked of filth, until they finally stopped in front of a dilapidated wooden hut on the edge of town. Mara knocked rhythmically, and after a moment, the door creaked open a crack, revealing a wary eye. Seeing it was Mara, the door opened fully.

The room was small and simply furnished, but relatively dry, with a small fireplace from which a weak flame flickered. A taciturn man with a scar on his face nodded to Mara and then retreated to a corner, as if he didn't exist.

“The old Norton family connections,” Mara explained in a low voice, gesturing for Serena to sit on the only remaining intact wooden stool. She herself leaned wearily against the wall and took a large gulp of water from her water pouch.

“After shaking off those soldiers, I took a long detour and it took me some time to reach the town of Retokash. I guess if you were alive, you would have tried to get here.” Mara began her narration, her tone calm, as if she were talking about something unrelated to herself. “I secretly inquired around the town for a few days and heard descriptions of a silent, hardworking young woman I didn’t know. I guessed it must be you.”

Serena listened, her heart filled with mixed emotions. Mara had faced danger alone to draw away the pursuers, and then endured many hardships to find her.

“Thank you, Mara,” she said sincerely, her voice choked with emotion.

Mara waved her hand, indicating that it wasn't necessary. "It's good that you're alive. What are your plans for the future?"

Serena remained silent for a moment. She gazed at the flickering firelight, her mind a jumble of thoughts. The town of Retokash was merely a temporary haven, not a place to linger. The shadow of Lucien still loomed, and the Empire's influence might one day extend here.

But she looked up at Mara, her eyes resolute: "I want to write a letter to my father first."

Mara raised an eyebrow slightly, but did not interrupt.

“It’s not a request for help,” Serena explained, her tone clear and calm. “It’s to tell him that I’m still alive, outside the Empire, and safe, but I won’t reveal my exact location. I need him to know this; it might give him more confidence when dealing with Lucien, or at least it will relieve him of excessive worry about me.” She carefully chose her words, avoiding titles like “Emperor.”

She no longer expected her father's protection, but she realized that the news of her "safety" itself might be an invisible bargaining chip or comfort that could have a subtle impact on the complex power struggle in the capital.

Mara looked at her, a hint of approval flashing in her eyes. "Wise. But teleportation requires reliable channels and cannot go through the imperial official post stations."

“I know,” Serena nodded. She took out the few copper coins she had hidden earlier, and looked at the dilapidated house and her and Mara’s disheveled appearance. They needed money, and they needed a safer way to get it.

“The letter can be written later.” Mara seemed to see through her thoughts. “First, we need to solve the immediate problem. Find a more stable foothold, get some decent equipment and travel expenses. The Kador Federation is not monolithic; we can go deeper and find a less conspicuous little place.”

Serena nodded.

That evening, by the flickering firelight, Serena borrowed a charcoal pencil and a small piece of rough parchment from the homeowner. She huddled in a corner, pondering for a long time before finally beginning to write. Her handwriting, slightly crooked from unfamiliarity, was clear and strong:

Dear Father:

Seeing these words is like seeing the person in person.

Please believe that by the time this letter reaches you, I will be well and safe outside the empire's borders, and need not worry about you.

Please do not bother searching for me or reply to this letter.

I hope you take care of your health and handle the current situation in the capital with caution.

Your daughter Serena

She put down her charcoal pencil, carefully rolled up the parchment, and tied it tightly with a thin string. There was no address, no excessive emotional expression, only a calm notification and a subtle reminder.

She handed the letter to Mara. Mara took it, asked no questions, and carefully put it away.

Serena walked to the window, pushed it open a crack, and gazed at the cold and unfamiliar night sky over the border of Kador. The stars were sparse, and the distant mountains were like dark eyebrows.