Asher’s POV.
The sky was barely starting to gray with morning when I saddled the black mare. My hands moved automatically — tightening straps, checking the blade strapped to my belt, the satchel of supplies slung over my shoulder.
I didn’t want a crowd. No goodbyes. No speeches.
Just the road and the promise I'd made.
Footsteps crunched behind me, deliberate. I didn’t have to turn to know it was Akira.
“You really thought you could leave without me?” she said, voice cool.
I tightened the last strap before answering. "This isn’t a hunt," I said. "It’s a death march."
"And?"
I finally turned. She stood there, arms crossed, her jacket half-buttoned, sword slung over her back. She looked fierce. Determined. Tired.
"Akira," I said low, "this isn’t your burden."
"You’re wrong," she sna
