Khaterine's breath came in ragged gasps as she stumbled through the ruined wasteland beyond Zephyrion's stronghold.
The air was thick with an eerie mist, curling around her limbs like ghostly tendrils.
Every step she took sent a fresh wave of pain through her weakened body, but she gritted her teeth and pressed forward. She had no choice.
Zephyrion had told her she could leave. That there was a way back. A portal, hidden somewhere in this cursed land.
She did not trust him.
But the mere possibility of escape was enough to make her reckless.
Her bare feet scraped against jagged stones and twisted roots, the once-delicate skin now torn and bleeding.
Her nightgown, the only piece of fabric shielding her from the cruel wind, was soaked in sweat and filth.
But she couldn't stop. The thought of Richmond, of the life she had lost, pushed her forward.
