The road had become a grave.
The last of the soldiers had vanished into the horizon hours ago, leaving only the sound of hooves on hard-packed dirt.
Now, only three riders remained.
Vaelith.
Kaelen.
And Elara.
The forest stretched endlessly, a wall of ancient, silent trees that seemed to lean in, watching.
The farther they traveled, the more the world behind them ceased to exist.
No villages.
No farms.
No travelers.
Nothing.
Just the crushing weight of the woods, the jagged silhouette of the mountains, and a silence so profound it felt like a physical pressure against the ears.
Elara's hands tightened on the reins.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, not from exertion, but from the sheer, terrifying absence of command.
She found the courage to speak only because the silence
