Arlinstead burns behind them.
The forest offers no shelter—only distance.
With exhausted horses and Ashen howls closing in, Malak leads his fractured company north through frost-bitten ravines and narrowing gullies. The stone they carry is no longer rumor. It is consequence. And the longer they run, the clearer it becomes that flight will not save them forever.
When steel finally meets steel, restraint will matter more than fury.
And before dawn, each of them will have to decide what kind of people they are becoming.
"The forest swallowed them whole.
Skeletal pines clawed at a sky bruised violet and black, their branches rattling in the wind like the bones of some forgotten beast. Frost crunched under hooves, sharp as breaking bone, and the air bit cold—laced with pine, smoke, and the faint iron tang of blood."
"Valor isn't running ahead, son,” Malak said quietly, his voice steady as stone. “It’s holding the line for the ones beside you."
Coming soon: Reflections, background, and thoughts from the trail.
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