Akio's horse tore through the night, hooves thundering against the hard-packed earth, nostrils flaring as the cold wind whipped past it's face.
Akio's every instinct screamed urgency. His eyes, dark and focused, followed the faint trail left by the girl who had arrived at the castle earlier that evening.
After a tense ride, the trail led him to a small, dilapidated hut. Moonlight glinted off broken shingles, casting jagged shadows across the ground. Without hesitation, he leapt from his mare and sprinted toward the door. His hand slammed against it with explosive force; the hinges splintered under the impact, and the wooden panel crashed to the floor with a resonant thud.
Inside, the hut was silent—Akio studied the room, but to his avail, there wasno Azrya.
His gaze landed on a pool of crimson blood spreading across the wooden floorboards. Strands of silver hair clung to the splintered wood.
Akio's fist collided with the nearest table, and he cursed under his breath, low and guttural. Panic clawed at him, unbidden and unwelcome. He had faced monsters, invading armies, and untold battles as a knight, yet none had ever filled him with the primal fear that now gripped his chest.
His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. Time seemed to hang in suspended silence as he took in the scene, the metallic iron scent of blood thick in the air. Then, with a harsh, controlled exhale, he shoved the panic aside, supressing his turbulent emotions and charged back into the night.
The clearing surrounding the hut whispered with the movement of leaves in the wind.
Akio inspected his surroundings, scanning the area, his eyes black with silent rage focusing on faint tracks leading away from the hut.
"Two- no three men. One injured judging by the way the tracks drag, like he's walking with a limp."
Akio thought to himself.
Tiny droplets of blood stained the dirt.
"If that blood is hers... "
Akio thoughts raging, his fists clenched until the knuckles turned white.
"They will suffer. Slowly. Agonizingly. No one touches what is mine."
The tracks suggested they had gotten away by cart. Akio leapt onto his stallion, feeling the familiar surge of control in the saddle, and galloped in that direction. Every heartbeat, every breath was a drum of fury and desperation.
The wind whipped around him, carrying the faint scent of dirt and the forest vegetation. Leaves whipped at his face, branches scraping his cloak, but he barely noticed.
His mind was tunnel visioned on one thing - Azrya. He would hunt them down even to the ends of the earth if that's what it took to find her.
Beneath him, the stallion's muscles coiled and flexed with every leap, carrying him faster and faster through the shadowed forest. Every sound—the distant call of a night bird, the rustle of undergrowth—heightened his senses, guiding him like a predator on the trail.
As he rode, Akio whispered into the darkness, almost a prayer, almost a vow:
"I will find you, Azrya. I promise. I will find you."
The forest seemed to hold its breath, shadows stretching and twisting around him. And in the echo of that whisper, he felt it—a flicker of hope, and the iron certainty that nothing, and no one, would stand between him and her.