Snow churned beneath heavy boots as Amber and Raven led a caravan of refugees—rescued hybrids, ex-soldiers, and scattered rebels—through the jagged mountain ranges beyond Stormspire's ashes.
The peaks loomed like sleeping gods. Somewhere above them, nestled in frozen cliffs, lay Frostsong Monastery—the last neutral haven outside Alliance reach.
Amber's voice was hoarse, but steady. “How much farther?"
Raven, carrying a sleeping child on his back, glanced at the map etched into his wrist screen. “Another half day. If the drones don't find us first."
Amber scanned the skies. “They're already looking."
At that moment, a soft whirring sliced through the wind.
Drones.
“Down!" Raven barked.
The caravan scattered into snowbanks as a squadron of Alliance scouts descended, sleek and soundle
