Chapter 53: Caravan Road, Goblin Traps
The caravan rolled slow and steady across sun-dappled grasslands, the kind that stretched so wide the horizon blurred into soft gold.
What had begun as a tight strike team against the cult had swollen into a private, well-guarded procession:
Hannah's crew, Sister Mary—the nun with sun-bright hair and quiet holy magic, Lord Theron with sealed documents bound for Gorthmorde, his own personal household knights, and pack horses loaded with supplies, healing herbs, and trade goods.
Gorthmorde was still a full month's ride away, as Theron had marked on the map at dawn. No old family ghosts, no noble intrigues, no cult strongholds waiting ahead.
Just open road, quiet woods, and the slow, easy rhythm of travel.
Hannah leaned against a splintered wagon wheel, pretending to mend a frayed leather strap.
