Nearly another week had passed.
Almost seven days of travel through rolling countryside, small villages, and endless dirt roads that wound through territories Finn had never seen before. They'd covered what he estimated to be at least two hundred miles, possibly closer to three hundred.
What should have been a mind-numbing journey, similar to the tedious waiting he'd endured at Castor's estate, turned out to be anything but boring.
The book Lucine had given him kept Finn occupied the entire time.
It was a small volume, easily held in one hand, with no more than perhaps eighty pages. But the contents within sent him into deep contemplation that made digesting the information take far longer than the actual reading.
He analyzed how to proceed with the knowledge he'd gained. Came up with ideas and discarded them. Compared and contrasted possible approaches. Played out scenarios in his mind, testing them against what the book had taught him about the nature of divinity and faith.
