The morning air felt colder outside the small hideout.
Mist drifted quietly across the empty road while the tall iron gates stood partially open, revealing the dark forest stretching endlessly beyond them.
Nathan stood beside the waiting chariot, arms folded loosely across his chest as the horses shifted impatiently against the frost-covered ground.
But I couldn't move.
Not yet.
My eyes remained fixed on Draven.
He stood several feet away near the gates, dressed once again in black like the darkness itself had shaped around him naturally. The wind moved faintly through his hair and coat, but he looked completely unmoved by the cold.
Untouchable.
Like a man already halfway gone.
"Go," Draven said quietly.
His tone was calm.
Too calm.
Like leaving me behind cost him nothing at all.
My chest tightened painfully.
Nathan opened the carriage door beside me, waiting.
But my feet still wouldn't move.
Draven glanced at me once before finally turning away toward the gates.
