The drake moved alongside the horses, its pace steady and its presence reassuring.
As they travelled, the memory of the Red Flaming Lion remained etched in everyone's minds. It was a beast of legend, rarely seen and even more rarely survived. The fact that they had encountered one—and that Jolthar had faced it without violence—was something none of them would forget.
The forest seemed almost surreal now, as though they had stepped through a threshold into a place where myths came alive.
Though the lion did not reappear, its absence was almost as unsettling as its presence. The men couldn't help but glance over their shoulders, half expecting to see those burning eyes in the shadows. But all they saw were trees, stretching endlessly as they moved closer to the edge of the forest.
Eran rode beside Jolthar, stealing occasional glances at him.
