By the time they reached the camp, dawn was just beginning to break — faint gold bleeding into the gray sky. The once-lively campsite now looked like a battlefield. Several tents had collapsed; the earth was scorched in places, and the air still reeked faintly of burnt scales.
A handful of knights were on guard, weary and battered. When they spotted Elisha, their eyes went wide.
"Your Highness!" one of them shouted, stumbling to his feet.
Ronald was on them within seconds, his massive frame moving with surprising speed. The relief in his face was visible, though quickly masked behind a scolding glare.
"Your Highness," he said, dropping to one knee. "You're safe… thank the heavens." Then his tone turned sharp. "What were you thinking, wandering off like that? Do you have any idea what—"
Elisha cut him off softly, her voice calm but hoarse. "I didn't wander off, Ronald. I was thrown."
