Everyone passed out the moment they stopped moving.
Ylva collapsed onto a patch of grass near the edge of the clearing, her tail curling around her legs, her breathing evening out within seconds. Mae leaned against a fallen log, her head drooping forward, her brown eyes closing mid-blink. Thalion sat with his back against a tree, his silver hair spilling over his face, his pale hands resting limp in his lap.
Even Kaelen, Helga, and Mira—who had parted ways with Jason's group at the base of the mountain—had looked ready to drop where they stood before trudging off toward their own camp.
They were that exhausted.
The crawl had nearly claimed their lives. Every muscle ached. Every joint screamed. The adrenaline that had carried them through the collapsing tunnels, the spiders, the queen, the ant king's emergence—it had all drained away, leaving behind nothing but bone-deep fatigue.
But the ant king did not sleep.
