The journey back to the Sovereign Keep was fueled by absolute, unadulterated fury. For two straight days, through freezing mud and harsh mountain winds, I marched South. Prudence and Alicia followed close behind, keeping pace through the dense pine forests as we bypassed the main roads to avoid the Central Realm's patrols.
My wrists were still scarred and tender from the iron suppression cuffs, but my mind was laser-focused on a single objective: confronting Draven Vael'ethor.
I was going to march through the heavy front gates of his fortress, bypass his guards, find him wherever he was hiding, and make him face the consequences of leaving me behind. He thought I was locked away in an obsidian dungeon beneath the Iron Spire, wallowing in misery while he played his dark political games. He had no idea I had burned down his enemy's security system with a steam pipe and an obsidian shard.
