The forest of stone became a grey blur. Elian's lungs burned, each breath a ragged sob of effort and terror. He didn't dare look back. The memory of the scout's transmission—that piercing, digital shriek—was a spike driven into his mind, propelling him forward. It wasn't a sound of pursuit; it was a sound of conclusion. A verdict.
Mara was a shadow just ahead of him, her movements fluid and desperate. Corvin brought up the rear, his heavier footfalls a constant, reassuring proof that they were still together, still alive. For now.
They ran until the oppressive, resonant silence of the dead forest began to recede, replaced by the faint, welcome whisper of life from the barren lands. Only when the first hardy, grey-green shrubs scratched at their legs did they allow themselves to slow, collapsing behind a large, wind-sculpted outcrop of rock.
