The Flower Is Finished

We decided to take the water route to reach the palace and the great hall.

It was the most dangerous option—yet also the quietest.

There was no other path that would allow us to move without being detected. The land routes were tightly guarded by the demon clan and the sorcerers hiding among them in human forms. Every corner of the forest, every narrow trail, was under watch. One single mistake could cost the lives of all the remaining soldiers.

Water was our only hope.

After all preparations were complete, we descended one by one from the narrow cliff leading to the river. Every movement had to be slow and silent, following George's warning not to make ourselves visible. Even the scrape of boots against stone could mean death.

The night sky was thick with dark clouds hanging low. No moonlight. No stars. The world felt wrapped in black cloth that pressed heavily against the chest.

It was as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath.

In silence, I prayed.

Let the rain fall.

If the rain came, the river would swell.

If the river swelled, it would drown out our presence.

And if that happened, we would become shadows among shadows.

Broken branches, soaked leaves, and fallen logs had been gathered earlier. They were tied loosely together, forming natural frames. From a distance, they would look like nothing more than river debris.

But beneath them, our bodies would hide.

Living shields drifting toward the heart of enemy territory.

One by one, the soldiers descended.

This time, I went first—together with Farrel.

He stood beside me at the river's edge, his face tense. His eyes kept shifting between the dark current below and the forest behind us. His breathing was shallow, restrained.

He wanted to ask something.

I gave him no chance.

In a mission like this, words only feed fear.

Behind us, George's voice sounded—low but firm, carrying the authority of a captain who had survived too many battles.

"Is everyone ready?"

The soldiers straightened despite the cold water reaching their legs.

"Yes, Captain!"

George turned toward me.

"Lord Xanders, everything is prepared."

I nodded once.

"Then we move."

Farrel swallowed.

"Do we need to wait for the rain?" he asked quietly.

The night wind suddenly strengthened, cutting across my face with bone-deep cold. The scent of damp soil filled the air—a sign the sky would not remain silent much longer.

"No," I said firmly.

"We move now. If the rain falls midway, it will only help us. By then, we'll already be close to the palace and the hall."

No one argued.

Without another word, I stepped forward and let myself fall into the river.

BYURRR—

The cold swallowed me whole.

It pierced past my skin and straight into my bones. The current slammed into my chest and dragged at my legs as if trying to pull me under. My breath caught painfully in my throat.

The night wind mixed with splashing water, turning the darkness into something alive and merciless.

Fear crept in.

Not the kind that screams.

But the kind that settles—heavy and silent—against the heart.

Ahead of us rose the waterfall.

Taller than I remembered.

Its roar sounded like a giant waiting to devour us. But everything had been calculated—angles, posture, how to let the water carry us instead of crushing us.

BYURRR—

My footing vanished.

For a brief moment, the world disappeared.

No up.

No down.

Only water and the violent pounding of my heart.

Then—

Impact.

Pain exploded across my chest and back, but not enough to break bone. I sank briefly before forcing myself back to the surface, gasping for air.

Farrel surfaced beside me, coughing violently.

"Does your chest hurt?" I asked.

"A little," he replied, still staring toward the waterfall.

"What about you?"

"I'm fine."

Only half true.

My body was steady—but my thoughts were not.

I glanced at Farrel again. There was something about him I still couldn't read. Something too calm. Too hidden. But without proof, suspicion was nothing but poison.

Fifteen minutes passed.

One by one, the soldiers followed, until George descended last. Miraculously, none were seriously injured.

"Is everyone down?" I asked.

"Yes, Captain," George replied. "No one left behind."

"Good. Now we swim. Make sure the logs stay with you."

"They're secured."

We pulled the branches ahead of us, letting them float first to mask our bodies.

"Use these for now," I whispered. "The rain will come."

As if answering my words—

The sky collapsed.

Rain poured violently without warning. Wind howled, hammering the river until it roared. The sound swallowed every small movement.

Perfect.

The current carried us faster than expected.

Soon, torchlights appeared through the rain—flickering shadows that could only belong to the palace and the great hall.

Guards stood watch on both riverbanks.

My heart pounded as I observed them through the curtain of rain. But the branches drifting along the river looked natural—nothing suspicious.

"Damn it, why does it have to rain like this at midnight?" one demon cursed.

"Better soaked than dead for nothing," another replied lazily.

The current dragged us onward.

"George," I whispered, "are you ready to stop?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Signal the men. Find strong logs. We can't let the current take us too far."

We reached the riverbank and hid beneath massive roots and broken stone.

Several soldiers trembled violently.

"Are you alright?" I asked one nearby.

He jolted.

"Y-Yes, Lord Xanders."

I exhaled slowly.

"If anyone can't proceed, have them hide first."

George hesitated—then nodded.

"We split into two groups," I said. "As planned."

The orders were passed in whispers.

I crawled out of the river and hid behind an old fallen log.

Then I felt it.

Movement.

A guard approached.

His sword lifted.

I moved faster.

My dagger pierced his chest before he could cry out.

"Akh—"

I caught his body and dragged it back.

"Don't let him drift," I whispered to George.

Then I slipped back into the water.

Another guard approached the sound.

"Quiet," I mouthed.

He paused.

If he had looked down—

He would have seen us.

But he didn't.

"…Probably just the rain," he muttered before walking away.

Only then did I breathe again.

I pulled on the demon's armor.

For now, it would allow me to walk among them.

I turned to George.

"Do you need my help capturing guards for disguise?"

He hesitated—but shook his head.

"No, Lord Xanders."

I studied him briefly.

Then nodded.

Because dawn was approaching.

And before the sun rose—

The Sandra had to be freed.

We remained alert, carefully watching our surroundings to make sure no one was nearby.

Once everything was prepared, I ordered them to remove their clothes and put on the soldiers' uniforms.

"Help me take off his armor," he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the heavy rain.