The light of dawn filtered through the dense canopy as Damien, Amara, and Carys moved cautiously through the woods. The clearing where Armand had escaped now lay behind them, but the lingering tension from the fight still clung to the air. Damien's steel-gray eyes swept the forest ahead, every sound sharpening his focus. Armand's words echoed in his mind like a taunt.
"Even if you kill me, you've already lost."
Damien clenched his fists as he walked, the frustration gnawing at him. Armand's escape had denied them the decisive blow they needed, and now the man would vanish into the shadows, regrouping and rebuilding—just as Elyas had done before him.
"We can't let him get far," Damien said, his voice low but resolute. "He's more dangerous than he lets on."
Amara, walking a step ahead, glanced back over her shoulder, her sharp blue eyes gleaming with faint amusement. "Oh, you think? The man throws smoke bombs, Damien. He's slippery, I'll give him that."
