Cliff hadn't spoken a word after leaving the Serpent's Den. He simply mounted his black steed—a powerful, horned horse—and without looking back, set off at full speed down the road. His face was expressionless, cold, and resolute.
The wind whipped across his face, but he didn't care. His mind was already fixed on the fortress and what he had to accomplish there.
The rhythmic pounding of hooves echoed through the forest, fading as he plunged deeper into the woods. He knew Renald, Kyrian, and the others were watching, even though they had chosen a different path.
While Cliff raced along the narrow path, they moved through the trees, leaping silently from branch to branch with the practiced agility of seasoned hunters. No words were exchanged, but he could sense their presence—a quiet, constant support in the shadows.
