An entire day had passed since their forces left the Wind Empire's capital.
The Wind Dragons wore devastation on their faces. Every single one of them still looked haunted after watching their ancient citadel fall so easily, swallowed by darkness as if thousands of years of pride meant nothing. Most of them finally understood there was no path left for them to escape. Their only choice was to follow the new king, even if that path led them straight to death.
Max rode atop the ancestral beast alone, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.
He sighed heavily.
Rosalia still hadn't spoken to him ever since she saw him carrying another woman. He couldn't understand her at all. He hadn't cheated. He had barely done anything wrong, at least not in any way that mattered to him.
