Hezekiah and Seraphine disembarked at midnight, heading east of Veyre where their target was last seen.
The riverlands lay hushed beneath the moon, reeds whispering softly as water slipped over stone. The air carried the faint metallic tang of blood, but not fresh. Hours old, perhaps more.
Hezekiah slowed instinctively, eyes tracking the ground, the way the grass bent unnaturally in places where weight had passed without haste. No frantic scatterying. No signs of pursuit. Whatever had moved through here had done so with purpose.
Seraphine noticed it too. She crouched near the riverbank, gloved fingers brushing the soil where three sets of boot prints ended abruptly. Drag marks followed but shallow. "Clean," she murmured. "No struggle. No excess." Her gaze lifted, amber eyes catching t
