He rose, gripping his sword, the faint trace of divine energy still swirling around him like dust in sunlight. The forest around them stirred, as though aware of his resolve.
Ashwing sighed, muttering, "You really don't know how to take a break, do you?"
"Not while they're still out there," Lindarion replied.
Then, under his breath, barely audible, a thought not meant for anyone but himself:
"And not while I still hear him whisper."
The morning mist didn't clear, it clung to the earth as if it, too, feared what lay beyond the treeline. The company moved quietly through the underbrush, their boots and claws muffled by moss and ash. Lindarion led them, his cloak drawn close, the faint shimmer of golden mana flickering at his fingertips each time he touched the air to test for disturbances.
