Noah.
The heavy iron door of the subterranean prison slammed shut somewhere far behind me, the muffled shouts of Daniel's mercenary guards dying out as I broke into the dense, dark thicket of the forest.
I did not look back, as I just couldn't.
My lungs were burning, every ragged breath tasting like copper and ash as I dragged air into them. Each inhale scraped painfully down my throat and filled my chest with a sharp, searing ache that made it difficult to breathe properly. Still, I forced myself onward, refusing to slow down even when my body screamed for rest.
The damp pine needles beneath my boots yielded with every frantic stride, sinking softly beneath my weight before springing back behind me. Yet even the familiar forest floor felt strangely difficult to cross. My body felt wrong—heavy, sluggish, and violently out of sync, as though my mind was moving faster than my limbs could follow. Every step required more effort than it should have, and every movement felt delayed.
