They left Caelthorn at dawn, slipping through the southern gates among merchants and pilgrims. Aric kept his hood low, Mira clutched her satchel, and Edran leaned heavily on his staff.
The road south wound through rolling fields and stone bridges. For the first time in days, Aric almost felt free.
But freedom was short-lived.
That night, as they camped by a ruined tower, Mira woke to the sound of steel. Soldiers in crimson cloaks surrounded them, blades drawn. Their leader, a knight with a scar across his cheek, pointed his sword at Aric.
"By order of the council, the boy is to return to Caelthorn. Alive or dead."
Aric's blood turned to fire. "They betrayed us."
Edran raised his staff. "Then we show them what betrayal costs."