I leaned against the jagged bark of an ancient tree, my breath ragged and shallow. Every muscle in my body protested with each movement, the wounds from my fight with Augustus gnawing at me. The pain was constant, but it wasn’t just physical—there was a deeper ache, the kind that came from uncertainty. Elara lay beside me, her breathing soft but uneven. I could see the exhaustion in her face, the way it clung to her like a shadow. The wound on her arm hadn’t improved, and the bandage I’d hastily wrapped around it was stained dark.
The smoke I’d spotted days ago had long since disappeared, swallowed by the endless expanse of trees to the north. It didn’t mean we were safe. If anything, it only heightened my unease. Whoever had lit that fire wasn’t far, and if they were anything like August
