Beep.
The sound sliced through the tense silence in the tent like a blade. Tristan's head jerked up from the map spread across the table, his heart already thudding before he even checked the screen. His fingers scrambled to unlock his phone, his breath caught in his throat.
And then he saw it—a message from Valeria.
A sharp breath hissed out of him. He blinked, rereading the words.
Tristan, I’m sorry for everything. Please forget me. Move on and live a happy life. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for everything.
His blood ran cold.
“No,” he whispered, eyes wide. “No, no, no.”
He shot to his feet so fast the chair clattered backward. Every warrior in the tent looked up at him in surprise.
“She messaged me!” he shouted. “Valeria just messaged me!”
The murmurs around the room grew louder.
“What did she say?” someone asked.
Tristan ignored the question. “Marcus!” he yelled, already pushing past the others. “Track it. Now!”
Marcus, who had been hunched over a pile of parchment near the back, stood quickly. “Let me see the phone.”
Tristan handed it over, his hands shaking.
Marcus scanned the message and nodded grimly. “Let’s go.”
The two of them rushed back inside the inner tent where their equipment, enhanced by magical and digital tracking, was set up. It was a blend of old scrolls, enchanted compasses, and high-tech devices blinking and beeping.
“Come on, come on…” Marcus muttered as he connected the phone.
Tristan paced like a caged animal, running his hands through his hair, every part of him screaming to act, to do something.
“It’s loading,” Marcus announced. “We might get something.”
Tristan stopped pacing. “She barely answered my messages, you know. Just… just read them and reacted with a thumbs up.”
Marcus glanced up. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Tristan gave a bitter laugh. “Can you believe that? I poured my heart out, and she gave me… a thumbs up.”
Marcus didn’t say anything. He knew Tristan was venting, hurting.
“At some point, I got pissed. I thought maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she’d moved on.” He let out a long breath. “But then again, maybe… maybe that was her way of protecting me.”
Marcus tapped a few buttons. “You think she’s being forced?”
“She’s not the type to give up this easily,” Tristan replied, his voice low. “Valeria fights. She’s fire. So yeah—if she’s pushing me away like this, something’s wrong.”
Suddenly, the tracking device let out a loud beep.
“We’ve got a location ping!” Marcus exclaimed.
Both men leaned closer as a red dot blinked faintly on the screen.
“Come on… hold steady…” Marcus whispered.
But then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the dot vanished.
Signal lost.
“What?” Tristan barked. “What happened?!”
Marcus frowned. “The phone was disconnected. Either destroyed or disabled. We lost it.”
Tristan slumped into the nearest chair, head falling into his hands.
“We were so close,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “So damn close.”
The room fell into a heavy silence. Outside the tent, the wind howled across the dark plains. The warriors that had gathered for the mission stood silently, watching the two men inside.
“They’ve hidden her well,” Marcus said softly. “We’ve been trying for days. No map leads to the Valemont mansion, and the council refuses to tell us anything.”
“I know,” Tristan replied without lifting his head. “No one wants to risk war. No one wants to challenge Lucien. Everyone’s afraid of what’ll happen if they step in.”
Marcus sighed. “We’ll find a way, Tristan.”
Tristan looked up slowly, his eyes hollow. “Do you know what she wrote in that message?”
Marcus shook his head.
“She told me to forget her. To move on. To be happy.” He gave a hollow laugh. “She thanked me for loving her. Like she was saying goodbye.”
Marcus swallowed hard. “Maybe she didn’t have a choice.”
“Maybe,” Tristan muttered. “But it still hurts like hell.”
They sat there in silence for a moment, both of them weighed down by uncertainty.
Marcus broke the silence first. “We still have time. The wedding’s in a few days. That means there’s still a chance to stop it.”
“Do we even know where to go?” Tristan asked, his tone edged with hopelessness.
Marcus stood up with sudden determination. “We’ll keep digging. We’ll search every damn inch of these mountains if we have to. I’ll have the trackers work overnight. There has to be something we missed.”
Before Tristan could reply, a voice called out from outside the tent.
“My lord! Someone’s here to see you. Says he’s a professor from the Academia.”
Tristan’s brow furrowed. “From the Academia?”
He stood immediately, his instincts sharp. “Let him in.”
The flap of the tent lifted, and in walked a tall figure draped in flowing robes, lined with symbols glowing faintly under the lantern light. His long silver hair was tied back, and his eyes glinted with intelligence, and something else. Power.
“Professor Darion?” Marcus asked in shock.
Tristan stepped forward. “You’re the Head of Arcane Studies. What are you doing here?”
The wizard smiled faintly. “I heard you’re trying to find someone. Someone who does not wish to be found.”
Tristan’s eyes lit up. “Can you help?”
Darion looked into his eyes for a long moment, as if measuring his soul. Then he smiled again.
“Very well. I’ll help you find her.”