The road to Virencia had never felt so long.
The entire caravan moved with a single, unified purpose—urgency. Not a single voice dared to speak above a whisper. The tigers, usually calm and steady in their rhythm, now thundered across the road with unrelenting pace, their great paws thudding the ground in a relentless cadence. The wind howled around them, the trees and terrain rushing past like fleeting moments, each second too precious to waste.
Luke had been carefully secured within the chariot. His breathing, though shallow, was still present. That was all they needed. A pulse. A sign. A chance.
Blankets and padding had been stacked beneath and around him to prevent his body from jolting too harshly with each bump on the road. But even then, every sharp turn and hard dip seemed to stab deeper into the hearts of those who cared for him.
