As they journeyed through the night, Ryan couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. He glanced over his shoulder, but saw nothing but the darkness of the forest.
Lyra seemed to sense his unease, and nodded reassuringly. "We're not being followed," she said. "At least, not yet."
Eryndor's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Lyra's expression turned serious. "There are those who would stop at nothing to prevent Prince Arin from reclaiming his throne," she said. "We need to be careful."
Ryan's grip on his sword tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that he had to be prepared for anything, that the fate of Eldrador rested on his shoulders.
As they walked, the silence between them was punctuated only by the sound of their footsteps and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. Ryan's thoughts turned to the journey ahead, and the challenges that lay in store for him.
And then, just as the first light of dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon, Lyra stopped suddenly, her head cocked to one side.
"What is it?" Ryan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lyra's eyes narrowed. "I hear something," she said. "Footsteps, coming from that direction."
Eryndor's hand went to the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the surrounding area. "Get ready," he said. "We're about to have company."
Ryan's heart pounded in his chest as he drew his sword, ready to face whatever dangers lay ahead.