Alex’s POV
We rode like hell itself was behind us—because in many ways, it was.
The Hollow King had vanished in a storm of shadow and screaming flame, but his presence clung to me like ash in my lungs, like soot beneath my skin. The memory of his fortress clung to every breath I took. The stink of it—the stink of despair—still lingered in my nostrils: blood in the walls, pain in the mortar, bones whispering beneath the stone.
Even now, riding fast and far, I felt it. I could still hear the echoes. Still feel the ghost of chains in the air.
Part of me was still there. Still fighting. Still bleeding.
My warriors rode in grim silence behind us. Some limped in their saddles. Others were caked in blood—black and red alike. But no one spoke. No cheers. No victory.
There was no glory in su
