The forest floor creaked beneath the group's rapid footsteps. Branches snapped, leaves rustled, and the sound of boots tearing the damp ground mingled with the irregular rhythm of their hurried breaths. The cold morning air bit at each of their faces, but no one slowed their pace.
Kael led the way, his gaze fixed between the trees. His body, now fully recovered, moved with an almost feline precision—every leap, every dodge, a calculated movement. Behind him, Sylphie ran lightly, her green robes blending into the surroundings. Amelia followed, clutching her grimoire to her chest to keep it from blowing open in the wind. Irelia brought up the rear, steadfast, the shaft of her spear glinting in the shafts of light that pierced the treetops.
