They did not stop running until the forest changed. The trees thinned from towering black trunks into twisted silver-barked elders draped in pale moss, their branches arching overhead like ribs. The knocking behind them had faded, but not disappeared. It lingered in the distance every few minutes, softer now, as if something enormous was following without hurry.
Misha led them along a narrow path hidden beneath roots and old stone, never once looking back. Camron walked beside Azaliyah out of stubbornness more than strength, jaw tight, steps uneven, one hand pressed discreetly to his side whenever he thought no one was watching.
She was watching.
“You’re limping again,” she said.
“I’m walking magnificently.”
“You look one breath away from collapse.”
“And yet,” he muttered, eyes forwa
