Jack’s knuckles tightened around the dragon coin, the image of Sarah’s scream still ringing in his head like a siren. The vision had shaken him—but it had also made things clear.
She was alive.
Somewhere on the border between Reidsville and Redmond, buried beneath a cabin.
A trap? Maybe. But it didn’t matter.
Jack stood up slowly, the dragon dagger in hand. His tattoo pulsed again—golden, alive. The dragon spirit shimmered faintly ahead, taking form once more, its eyes ancient and knowing.
No words passed between them. None were needed.
Jack nodded once, jaw clenched and ran.
For twelve hours straight, through hills, roots, gravel, and brambles that cut at his legs and arms. He didn’t stop. Didn’t eat. Didn’t think. The dragon dagger lit the way, and the spirit led like a silent sen
