The tunnels were colder the deeper I ran.
Every breath burned. Every step felt like it might be my last. My palms were still scorched from the ritual, the mark on my neck glowing dimly beneath the torn collar of my prison shift. But I was free.
For now.
I did not look back. The rogue patrols would discover the breach soon enough, and I couldn’t afford to be caught. The prison had been a graveyard for too many, and I refused to be one more forgotten name carved into the stone.
The tunnel gave way to moonlight, and I burst through a rotted iron gate into an open forest.
I did not stop.
I ran until the trees turned from ancient to sparse until the scent of ash faded from the wind. My body screamed for rest, but survival screamed louder.
Then came the howls.
Not wolves.
Rogue beasts.
