The wind moved with a weight it hadn't carried before.
Arlon and June ran through the tall grass that lined the northern fields of Trion, their footsteps barely brushing the earth, their forms cutting through the air like blades.
They didn't speak.
There was no need.
Not now.
They were too close.
This region—they'd never come here before. Not in their travels, not in their previous lives.
In fact, Arlon had intentionally avoided this place his last time through. Something about it had always given him pause.
Not fear. Just an understanding.
He wouldn't survive if he came here.
So he hadn't.
And maybe that was why, when the time came to search for Asef, when all the Demons were dead and the smoke of the last battlefield had cleared, Arlon's thoughts had gone here.
To the place he hadn't dared to tread.
The place he'd left untouched.
Because that was where Asef would be.
Not hiding.
Waiting.
