METRO 1497 - CHAPTER 7 THE PATH CHOSEN

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CHAPTER VII

— THE PATH CHOSEN —

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–INT. LODGE CORRIDOR — MORNING–

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The corridor stretches long, lit by light from slit windows. The air carries a metallic cold. The old lodge stands perfectly firm, old stone— old men at play.

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Traeven's steps are measured.

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Not slow.

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Not hurried.

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Just… Inevitable.

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His expression is unreadable, but something coils behind his eyes— calculation, memory, a covered storm, waiting for the right door to open.

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Ahead, Theron's voice cuts through the stillness, low and controlled.

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Phillip and Jeffrey stand with him, shoulders tense, nodding quickly at whatever command they've been given. Traeven doesn't announce himself. He simply arrives. Phillip notices first— posture stiff. Jeffrey follows— swallowing. Theron turns last, as if forced by gravity, rather than choice.

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For a moment the hallway corridor stands still.

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Traeven's presence shifts the air. A pressure, subtle, but undeniable. Phillip and Jeffrey don't hesitate the moment Traeven steps into orbit. They exchange looks— they slip away down the hall without a word.

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Footsteps fading fast.

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Now it's just Traeven and Theron.

The corridor feels different with only the two of them in it. Quieter somehow, but definitely sharper. Like the air itself is listening. Theron straightens his coat, trying to reclaim the authority that just evaporated with his men.

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Traeven's silence is scalpel. He speaks, not loud, just precise.

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Traeven:

"You know there will be a problem with the supply shift…"

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Theron's eyes flicker.

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He hates when Traeven starts with facts.

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Theron:

"We've switched suppliers before, nothing's happened that wasn't handled, or eventually resolved."

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Traeven steps forward, just to make the air tighten.

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Traeven:

"This isn't the same."

(continues) "And Cat is on the other side of that line. You know what he is. You know how he'll respond."

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A shadow crosses Theron's expression— memory, fear, denial.

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Traeven:

"If he senses a disruption in the flow… If he thinks we're weakening our hold… He won't wait for diplomacy."

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He lets the words hang, heavy and cold.

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Traeven:

"He'll Strike."

"Fast."

"And without hesitation."

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Theron looks away, just for a heartbeat— but Traeven sees it.

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He sees everything.

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Theron:(undeniably defensive, not hiding well)

"We'll manage, as we have before."

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Traeven's eyes narrow, not in anger— in disappointment.

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Traeven:

"You've contained him. Things will change."

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Theron stiffens, but Traeven doesn't give him room to recover.

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Traeven: (low, dangerous tone)

"If you cut the supply now, without preparing with reinforcements, you're not provoking negotiations. You're provoking a war."

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The corridor goes still.

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Theron tries to regain control of the conversation. Traeven watches him calm with dissecting intelligence— that makes Theron feel like he's being read, not spoken to.

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Theron exhales through his nose.

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Theron:

"My plan is simple, as I've already stated, we reinforce the old fortress before the first harvest. Double the watch. Triple rotations."

(A beat) "Our standing in The Providence will be protected."

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Traeven's expression doesn't change— but the silence that follows is damning.

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Theron:

"It worked before and it will again. We've switched suppliers before-- in nothing were we unprepared. All was taken care of, always has, and always will.

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Traeven steps a bit closer, voice low, surgical.

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Traeven:

"You're forgetting the variables."

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Theron's jaw tightens.

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"Your supplies were late. Your men are stretched thin. And you don't know the exact number of bandits under Cat's control."

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Theron looks away slightly. Traeven sees it.

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"And who's to say word hasn't spread that you've already switched allegiances?"

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(Beat)

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"Cat is unpredictable. He's violent.

He's strategic when he wants to be.

And if he ever finds out that his brother is replacing his operation... It becomes personal."

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Theron flinches at the truth.

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"If he thinks you've weakened ties, or senses the shift...He won't wait for diplomacy, a meeting, a sit down.

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Traeven steps past forcing Theron to turn.

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"His men say that he's a Gargoyle..."

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"I don't believe such fables...

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"But what I do believe is that his men will attack us as a whole."

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Theron doesn't answer. He doesn't defend his plan. He doesn't argue. He simply turns and resumes walking towards his destination-a silent retreat disguised as composure. Traeven follows at his master's side, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight, expression calm. But the truth is unmistakable. Traeven's ability to control a conversation. And Theron knows it.

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Traeven:

"There's something you're unaware of."

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Theron's shoulders tense, but doesn't slow. Traeven continues, almost reflective.

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Traeven:(low tone)

"I've known Metro since he was a boy."

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That stops Theron for a heartbeat. Not enough to be obvious, but enough for Traeven to catch.

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"He's unpredictable, in a different way."

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They resume walking.

"Metro follows his heart, even if it puts his loved ones in danger, even if it'll cost him everything.

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Theron exhales sharply, unsure, threatened. Traeven continues with precision.

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"And men like that...Men who believe so strongly in something, they don't break the way you expect.

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A long silence stretches between them.

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"He'll die for what he believes in."

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Theron finally looks at him- fear and realization shifting in his gaze.

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"Just like his brother."

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The words land heavy.

They stop at Traeven's lead. He holds his gaze, calm, unblinking.

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"Cat and Metro are from the same coin, my lord.

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Just different sides...

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They share the same mother...

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but have different temperments.

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They have different fathers...

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But the same flame underneath."

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Theron swallows, the truth settling cold in his chest.

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Traeven turns his eyes forward again, hands still behind his back, walking again with the authority of a man who sees the future more clearly than anyone else in the lodge.

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They walk in silence for several long steps.

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Theron's boots echo harder now — with weight and not authority. Finally he exhales, a low, tired sound he didn't mean to let slip.

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Theron:

"Something's wrong with Veronica."

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Traeven doesn't react outwardly.

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But inside, he sharpens.

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Theron keeps walking, voice dropping to a rare vulnerable register.

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Theron:

"She's distant.

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Avoiding me.

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All of this (beat) It's unlike her."

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He gestures vaguely to the stone walls.

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"Something's happened at The Fortress...

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I know it.

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There's a reason she doesn't want to go."

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Traeven's eyes narrow — not in judgement, but in calculation.

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"I was going to prepare a marriage."

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Traeven's stomach turns, jaw tightens, a cringe he buries instantly behind a neutral expression.

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He keeps his posture perfect, hands behind his back.

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Theron continues, oblivious to the storm he just stirred.

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"It would solidify partnerships."

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"Tie the crop to my bloodline."

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"Securing our village's future."

(Theron gazes in the distance)

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Traeven responds, smooth, controlled.

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Traeven:

"A business arrangement then."

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Theron nods, but his eyes possess something darker, a premonition he can't shake.

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Theron:

"Your words, they ring true. I've had worries of retaliation, even though I don't want to admit it"

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Traeven lets the silence sit.

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Theron fills it.

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"If Veronica chooses to head back to The Whispering Estates, I want you to watch over the situation."

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Traeven's eyes sharpen — an open door he's been waiting for.

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"Get to the bottom of everything for me; I need to know what happened with my daughter. I need clarity, that this operation is still under my control."

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Traeven's lips curl into the faintest smile —

subtle, respectful, but unmistakably satisfied.

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Theron stops and looks at Traeven.

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"So, Traeven, my trusted advisor — is this doable?"

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He inclines his head, voice soft and obedient on the surface — but carrying the quiet triumph of a man who just gained the board.

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Traeven:

"Of course, my lord."

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"I'll see to everything personally."

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Theron: (nods, satisfied)

"Good."

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Theron breaks and walks away, unaware of the shift he just allowed. Traeven sits still, hands behind his back, left alone in the corridor hallway.

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Scene fades black -

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change scene -

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-LILLY'S HUT- GRASSLANDS- MORNING-

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Pale morning light spills through the window, cool and unfiltered. Steam rises from a small pot on the hearth. The air is crisp, the quiet kind of stillness that makes every word feel sharper.

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Rose stands near the table, hands damp from rinsing fresh herbs. The morning chill clings to her skin. Lilly stands next to her, by the fire, chopping vegetables, her posture firm with cold light.

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Lilly:

"I don't want you going back to that castle."

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Rose stops mid-movement.

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Rose:

"Why?"

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Lilly: (voice low, steady, eyes worried)

"That boy — Metro — he seems kind I see that. But he's tied to Theron. To soldiers. To danger that doesn't belong to us."

(A beat)

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"I won't have you near that army."

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Rose doesn't turn. The pot on the hearth pops slowly, the only sound in the room.

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"You've never seen what war turns good boys into..."

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She steps forward, her shadow stretching long across the floor.

"You see him, I know you do. But you don't see the army behind him — the orders he'll follow, the men he'll fight, the things he'll be asked to ignore."

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Her voice tightens, fear threading through the calm.

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"And if those men ever come looking for him... where do you think they'll look... They'll come here."

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The final truth, heavy in the morning air.

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"He doesn't understand the cost of his actions. That ignorance is dangerous."

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Rose turns finally, her voice soft but unwavering.

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Rose:

"He's my friend."

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Lilly exhales with sharp worry.

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Lilly:

"And that's what scares me. He doesn't know he's putting his friends in terrible danger. He's unaware of what he's a part of..."

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Lilly's face hardens in a fearful, protective way.

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"I'm headed to the market. Get some fish by the spring. I'll be back this afternoon."

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ROSE & LILLY'S HUT - GRASSLANDS -

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BEFORE NOON -

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Sally slows as Metro rides into the clearing. The hut sits still in the bright midday light, still and open, as if waiting for someone who hasn't come home.

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Metro dismounts, keeping one hand on Sally's saddle. He walks to the doorway and pushes the beads aside.

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Metro:

"Rose...?"

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Nothing.

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The hearth is cold.

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The table is clean.

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The room feels pressed still, like someone stepped out only moments ago.

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Metro stands, fingers tightening on the saddle strap. He looks around once, slow, taking in the emptiness — The silent moment stretches.

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He doesn't move. He just breathes, eyes fixed on the space where she should be.

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Then something in him shifts.

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He turns, grabs the saddle horn, and swings onto Sally in one swooped motion.

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Metro:

"Ya!"

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She bolts forward, carrying him back into the bright noon light. Metro leaning into the ride with dramatic urgency.

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The hut stays behind, waiting.

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Scene Fades -

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- SPRING CREEK - GRASSLANDS -

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NOON -

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The spring lies quiet under the bright midday sun, water moving in slow, clear ripples. The air is warm here, softer than the rest of the forest.

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Rose kneels by the edge, gathering water in a small clay bowl. Her hair falls forward as she works, catching sunlight, she moves calmly, but there is a stillness in her eyes — like her thoughts are somewhere else entirely.

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A breeze shifts the leaves above her.

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She pauses.

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She looks up.

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For a moment she just listens — to the water, to the trees, to the wind.

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She sets the bowl aside gently.

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Glancing toward the path leading back to the hut.

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A small breath escapes.

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Not worry.

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Not frustration.

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just, waiting.

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The sunlight shines a glinted reflection off the water moving beside her. She dips her fingers into it, letting the ripple spread outward.

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Her posture straightens.

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Someone or something is riding towards her.

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She lifts her head.

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Her eyes soften.

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The forest holds its peace.

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A faint rhythm breaks the quiet.

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Hooves.

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Steady.

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Familiar.

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Growing closer.

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She turns toward the trees, just as Sally steps into the clearing. The light catches the white patch and black coat.

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Metro sits tall in the saddle, breath a little uneven from the ride, eyes searching the space.

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For a moment, neither of them moves.

Rose sits there at the water's edge, staring at Metro and Sally in disbelief — like she wasn't expecting him, like she isn't sure she's ready for whatever she's feeling.

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Metro spots her.

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His face lifts, surprised and relieved all at once.

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Metro:

"O- hey, Rose! I've been looking for you!"

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Sally responds to his voice, breaking into a gallop towards her. As they close the distance, Metro pulls gently on the reins, slowing her to a calm trot.

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He swings off Sally in one enthusiastic motion, boots hitting the ground with a soft thud.

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He steps towards Rose, a little breathless, a little too happy to see her.

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They sit close to water, under a large willow tree.

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The noon light bounces off of them softly.

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Rose finally speaks.

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Rose:

"Hey..."

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Metro:

"Hey, I'm glad I found you, what are you doing out here?"

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Rose:

"Fishing, for my mother."

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Metro:

"Oh... and how's she doing?"

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Rose: (pauses, eyes lowered)

"She's fine."

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(long beat)

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Metro: (nods slowly)

"... why'd you leave the castle without saying goodbye?"

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Rose: (takes a long breath)

"my mother thinks it's dangerous."

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Metro: (cranks his neck)

"Really? The whole place is swarming with guards."

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Rose:

"That's what she's afraid of, me getting hurt..."

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(A beat)

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"She doesn't want me to see you anymore."

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Metro freezes.

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It hits him like a ton of bricks.

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A long silence settles between them.

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He finally speaks.

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Metro: (voice low)

"Why did you offer to help me and Blake?"

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Rose: (softer expression, smiling)

"Because I knew I could trust you."

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Metro looks at her, confused but hopeful.

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"How? we were complete strangers."

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Rose: (a small laugh escapes)

"Well, when you and Blake held each other, and were screaming for your lives, I knew right then there, that you weren't a threat."

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Metro stares at her stunned, then looks away embarrassed, a slow smile forming, despite himself.

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He straightens, trying to recover his dignity.

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Metro:

"I wasn't that scared."

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Rose:

"Yes, you were. You act tough, but I can tell — you're super soft on the inside."

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Metro jolts slightly, even while sitting.

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Metro:

"And what's that supposed to mean!?"

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Rose's smile brightens, warm and glowing — something in the air shifts between them.

Then she grows serious.

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Rose:

"What's going on between you and Veronica?"

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The warmth pauses.

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The air thickens slightly.

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Rose watches him carefully, waiting.

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Metro:

"There's nothing going on between us...."

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Rose doesn't look convinced.

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Rose:

"It didn't seem like that... I know it's none of my business, but when I saw her striking you, crying, screaming…

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(longbeat)

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‘It left me with a bad feeling."

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Metro expression darkens.

He turns his gaze to the water, watching the ripples of the creek instead of her.

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Metro:

"Veronica and I have been friends for some time. She robbed me once — said it was to protect me. That's what lined me up with Theron. I never knew she would explode on me like that."

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Rose's eyes sharpen, dense and focused on him.

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Rose: (A beat)

"Do you love her?"

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Metro turns instantly, locking eyes with her.

His face grows stern, steady.

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Metro: (A long pause)

"Yes, I do. As a friend. As a sister."

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He breathes slowly, the truth settling between them.

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"I care for her like an older brother would a spoiled sibling...I never wanted it to turn out like this. I just wanted..."

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He stops.

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Rose is already reading him deeply, clearly.

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Rose: (Another quiet moment.)

"I believe you..."

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The air shifts.

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~ softens ~

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Deepens —

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Metro: (looking in her vicinity)

"... You know

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...this morning

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when I woke up..."

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(looks directly at her)

"... all I could think about was you."

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Rose lifts her eyes to him — slowly, deeply, steadily. The look pulls Metro's energy into hers, locking them together.

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"I may never be able to see you again. After this... your mother... she loves you."

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His eyes water / the truth cracking through him.

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"The moment I looked at you...

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I knew..."

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Rose eyes deepen, trance like — drawn into him.

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(A beat)

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"... that I loved you."

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Rose looks away, crushed by a wave of emotion — then snaps back quickly, faithfully, courageously staring straight into Metro's soul.

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Metro never breaks.

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Metro:

"Do you love me...?"

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A single tear slips down his cheek.

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Rose's eyes water.

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Then softly —

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Rose:

"Yes."

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Metro catches his breath.

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Silence.

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Purity.

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Stillness.

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Rose waits for him.

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Metro leans in, slow.

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A breeze lifts Rose's hair, brushing it across his face.

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She moves forward ever so slightly,

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Committing —

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They're eye to eye.

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Lips nearly touching.

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Metro closes his eyes.

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Rose closes hers.

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The first kiss.

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Soft.

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Pure.

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True.

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They part.

(A powerful, loving magic in the air)

Eyes open gently.

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The world stands still.

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Then —Sally stomps the ground.

“THOMP!”

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A hard thud.

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The sound cracking through the quiet like a warning shot.

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Sally: (aggressive scoff)

“BAM!”

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(another stamp)

She snorts, loud and offended, tossing her head with full dramatic authority — the kind of side-eye only she can muster in delivery.

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Metro startles slightly and Rose jumps a bit, taken aback. Sally kicks dust backwards, peering at them, as if saying

("Alright, enough.")

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The spell breaks — not shattered, just grounded.

Metro smiles and stands lifting Rose. Their cheeks are warm. Their eyes are soft.

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Their hearts are still racing.

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Sally stands there, unwavered, judging them like a protective aunt who's seen too much.

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scene fades -

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switch scenes -

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-LILLY & ROSE'S HUT - GRASSLANDS -

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AFTERNOON-

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A red cardinal sits on a tall forest treetop, perched. It looks down over the clearing.

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Far beneath the canopy, three tiny figures move across the landscape.

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Metro is seen as a small dark figure leaning forward with purpose. Rose is a soft shape behind him, her dress catching the last gold of the sun. Sally is sleek, a powerful black form underneath them, even from a distance her white marking between her eyes, forms a faint glimmer.

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From the heights, they look like tiny figures, sliding across the earth, into the forest.

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- LILLY'S HUT -

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SUNDOWN - GRASSLANDS -

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A crow sits in a distant treetop, perched, cawking. It watches Lilly come home on Curtis, purse strapped over her shoulder.

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Inside the hut feels wrong, the moment she steps inside — a silent, empty, abandon.

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She steps back out to see fresh horse tracks in the dirt leading south towards the Whispering Forest.

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Her face tightens.

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She steps toward the forest.

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Malice and terror moved into her expression.

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Scene fades black-

ns216.73.216.67da2

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