Medusa did not know how long she had been flying; time had ceased to exist as a linear concept.
Her vision had blurred into a tunnel of rushing wind and the rhythmic, desperate beating of her own heart.
She didn't know where in the world they were right now—whether they had crossed the borders of the Southern Region or drifted into the jagged peaks of the untamed territories—but one thing she knew with absolute certainty: she could not stop.
She didn't stop until the very last drop of her Qi had dried up, leaving her meridians feeling like cracked riverbeds.
With a final, ragged breath, her flight failed, and the three of them dropped like stones, plummeting into the center of a deep, jagged canyon where the shadows were thick enough to hide the dead.
Medusa hit the ground hard, her scales scraping against the cold stone, but she held the two tightly, protecting them from the fall.
