The morning mist clung stubbornly to the dirt path as Kaelith and his companions rode deeper into the forest trail that led to Khasidar.
The sky above was a dull gray, clouds hanging low as if watching their progress with heavy eyes. Trees arched high on either side of the road, their branches clawing toward the path like twisted fingers.
Elion and Lysaro rode ahead, occasionally scouting with narrowed eyes and ready blades. Kaelith and Hale followed just behind, with the remaining knights keeping to the flanks.
The silence of the morning was unsettling.
Even Elion, usually the first to crack a dry joke, had gone quiet.
Kaelith adjusted his cloak and glanced toward Hale, who rode with practiced ease but remained alert, his gaze flicking toward every shadow.
For hours, they pressed forward, hooves thudding against the soft ground, until Kaelith raised his hand for a brief halt near a shallow stream.
"We'll refill water skins," he said. "Quickly. We move fast from here."
