The wind carried grit and silence.
Darius was already scanning the sparse treeline that bordered the last stretch of cultivated land. Moonlight cast thin shadows between the scattered brush, and the night air had that stillness before things go wrong.
"Did you catch where?" Darius asked, voice low but steady.
"North," Auri replied, pointing past the low houses and toward the narrow trail beyond. "They dragged him that way."
Darius adjusted the clasp of his cloak in one swift motion. "Then we've got ground to make up."
They moved without another word, but there was a weight behind Darius' tone—an understanding that over twenty-four hours had already passed since Hawad vanished. Whoever had taken him was no longer just ahead. They were likely far, moving with purpose, with intent.
