Blood on the ground. A vow in the dark. And a road that only grows colder. Malak Crosswell walks a path shaped by silence and consequence, burdened by the weight of both memory and mission. Galot’s courage is tested—and found wanting. Rho speaks in riddles. The forest watches. And somewhere ahead, Arlinstead waits.
"His breath steamed in slow, deliberate plumes, eyes scanning the black beyond the firelight—listening for the snap of a twig, the low growl of a lurking wolf, any whisper of ambush."
"'Look, you don't know what's going on—and it's more than you think. The peace you farmers cling to? It's over.'"
Coming soon: Reflections, background, and thoughts from the trail.
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