CHAPTER 45: ECHOES OF THE OLD GUARD
We set out at dawn from the Old Spire, the First Charter carefully rolled and bound in oilcloth, carried not by one hand but passed among us like a flame that must never be allowed to gutter. The journey back felt different — no longer a flight into the unknown, but a return with purpose. Riders from half a dozen different chapters rode with us now, their banners lowered in respect, their movements synchronized as if we had all ridden together for years instead of days.
Yet even as the road wound downward toward familiar valleys, I caught Kael glancing back over his shoulder more than once, his jaw set tight. When we stopped for midday rest beside a clear mountain stream, I sat down beside him as he polished dust from his bike’s handlebars.
“You think
