Alaric and the others pressed onward in silence, the crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound as the forest path narrowed. Lara lagged slightly behind, her gaze constantly drifting over her shoulder. Worry clouded her features; something felt wrong.
Then, through the trees, Aramis and Redon emerged—sweat-soaked and grim-faced—half-carrying a dazed woman and her young daughter. Their clothes were streaked with ash and dirt, their movements weary, but determined.
Logan followed closely behind, his expression hollow. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white, trembling with a rage barely contained.
Lara hurried to meet them, her voice tight with alarm. "What happened?"
Logan's breath came in short, uneven bursts. He struggled to speak, his voice shaking. "The villagers came... not long after you left. Someone saw me take you into my home yesterday. Word spread, and soon enough, the village chief showed up at my door."
