As planned by Freya, we did eventually set out for the campaign.
And true to her word—or maybe after getting properly scolded—she did inform everyone about the tiny death sentence detail we had discussed earlier.
The reaction was about what you'd expect.
A lot of nervous glances. A lot of pale faces.
Whispers rising like smoke in a burning forest.
The group thinned out almost immediately, with many people making the smart decision to get out of the expedition altogether.
But, surprisingly, not nearly as many as I had anticipated.
Out of the original fifty members, thirty-nine stubborn souls remained.
It was almost... admirable.
Almost.
I walked near the front, right beside Freya, who carried herself with a tense but determined air.
We were traveling on foot.
The ground beneath us—cracked, blackened earth—radiated heat like a forge.
Every step felt like I was pressing my boots into a searing iron plate.
My soles burned.
