The road north wound steadily downward, the mountains of Greshan fading behind them as Delwig's fertile plains slowly stretched into view.
Fields of wheat and orchard groves extended for miles, all bordered by the faint outline of walls in the distance—walls that shimmered faintly with enchantments layered so thick that even Damien could taste them on the air.
Fenrir padded forward in silence, pulling the carriage as if it weighed no more than a feather. The soldiers of Apnoch's advance unit marched in a tight wedge formation around them, their polished armor catching slants of orange as the evening sun dipped toward the horizon.
The quiet broke when Apnoch slowed his pace and drew closer to Damien, who was walking just ahead of the carriage.
"You spoke of experiments," the captain said lowly, his tone carefully measured so only Damien and Arielle could hear. "Why arrive at such a theory?"
Damien didn't break stride. "Because the evidence lines up too neatly to ignore."
