[Leif's POV—Nightfall, Forest Edge—Thorenvald Territory]
The forest had never felt this quiet before.
No rustling leaves. No wind. Just the soft crunch of boots against damp soil and the occasional flicker of crimson eyes in the dark—my pack scouting ahead in absolute silence.
"Alina!" I shouted, my voice echoing between the trees. "Alina, answer me!"
Nothing. Only the echo came back, hollow and wrong.
Beside me, Alvar moved with grim precision—torchlight painting his face in gold and shadow. Nick and Sir Roland followed behind, marking our trail with faint sigils in case we needed to retrace.
"She wouldn't go far," Alvar said, but there was tension in his voice—a line drawn tight between reason and dread.
"She's six," I said hoarsely. "She doesn't even know what's beyond the northern ridge—she couldn't have just disappeared."
Zephyy was nowhere in sight. That scared me more than anything. If even that tiny, arrogant dragon hadn't come back, something was wrong.
