As usual, Delwig stirred with early morning life, but Damien and Arielle were already beyond its walls before the sun had fully risen.
Fenrir padded along the dirt road, the massive wolf quiet despite his size, pulling the two-person carriage they had brought with them. The eastern gates closed behind them with a heavy clang of iron.
"You're certain about this direction?" Arielle asked, her voice muffled under her cloak. Her eyes swept the vast expanse of plains stretching east, broken only by jagged ridges and clumps of forest.
Damien nodded. "I can still feel faint residue from the stag's corruption. It drifts this way. Whoever transported it—or did the infusion—left traces."
He didn't say it aloud, but [Hindsight] had left him with more than memories. The stag's essence still lingered in him, a tether pointing eastward, like a scar only he could sense.
