Night draped itself over the Holy Land like a heavy curtain soaked in ink, swallowing the last traces of daylight and leaving behind only shadows that seemed to breathe, shift, and whisper among the dense forest, where danger lurked not in one place but everywhere at once, hidden in every rustling leaf and every unseen movement beyond sight.
Through this suffocating darkness, three slender figures moved at full speed, weaving through trees and uneven ground with desperate urgency, their footsteps uneven yet relentless, as if the forest itself were trying to slow them down, and yet they refused to yield.
Their clothes clung to their bodies, soaked with sweat, strands of hair stuck to their faces, and every breath they drew was sharp and ragged, like glass scraping through their throats, yet none of them dared to stop, not even for a heartbeat.
Because behind them—
Something was chasing.
Something they feared more than exhaustion.
