The rhythmic pounding of the hooves echoed along the road. Loud in the quietness of the afternoon. Casting wavering illusions in the distance like rippling water, as the horse galloped forward at its fastest speed. Dust piled up behind in thick clouds, kicked up by its powerful legs.
Perched on top of the horse were two women, both with long brown hair. Their clothes fluttered with the small gale of wind. The older of the two, Eleanor, sat in the front. Her expression was full of determination, and her sharp eyes were narrowed against the glare. With ease, she guided the horse with expertise. Their bodies in tune, as if she had been riding her whole life.
Behind her, clinging tightly to Eleanor's waist, sat Elina. She leaned forward, pressing her face to Eleanor's back, her arms locked around her in a desperate embrace. Her breath came fast, and though she tried to remain calm, her heart thudded with anxiety. The sunlight gleamed off strands in her hair, revealing strands of copper beneath the brown; she wasn't much younger, but she was less experienced. Less hardened. The ride is clearly taking a toll on her, both physically and mentally.
Their saddlebagswere weighed down by provisions stocked by the merchants. Canteens of water, dried meats, bread and products that the merchants were most likely transporting. The sun was unrelenting, bearing down from above with an almost oppressive force. Sweat beaded at their brows, dripping and soaking into their tunics.
"Should we not go back to get him?" Elina finally said, raising her voice over the wind and hoofbeats. Her voice trembled—not from the gallop, but from the weight of her concern.
Eleanor didn't answer right away. Her eyes remained locked on the road ahead, her hands tightening slightly on the reins. She blinked once against the sweat trickling down her temple and inhaled slowly, measuredly.
"Remember what he said," she replied coldly. "We'll meet at the academy. Don't look for me."
Elina frowned. Her arms stayed wrapped around Eleanor, but her fingers dug in slightly now. "But what if he needs help?" she pressed, her brown eyes narrowing, a flicker of defiance in her voice. "What if something went wrong?"
Eleanor's shoulders tensed, her silence stretching for a long second before she responded. "That's enough," she snapped, though her voice remained composed. "He's capable. You saw it yourself."
"But—"
"Stop," Eleanor interrupted. "We keep moving. If he's alive, he'll make it. If he's not... then there's nothing we can do now."
The words hung in the air like a sharp blade. Elina's throat tightened. She wanted to argue with her, to scream and demand they turn around, but deep down. She knew Eleanor was unfortunately right. Even so, the feeling of helplessness gnawed at her insides.
The road stretched on for miles, winding through forests, as birds circled overhead, their shadows gliding across the path. Occasionally signs of life were seen: animals and monsters. But they didn't stop.
Time slipped slowly under the accumulative weight of exhaustion and silence; the horses' pace slowed to a trot. Its breath heavy, each step deliberate now. Eleanor gave it a glance, noticing the exhaustion. They all needed rest.
Pulling gently on the reins, guiding the horse towards the edge of the path. Where a cluster of trees offered shade. The horse stopped beneath. Its sides trembling. Eleanor dismounted smoothly, her legs still stiff from the long journey. She turned to help Elina down, her touch surprisingly gentle despite her earlier coldness.
"We'll stop here for a moment," Eleanor said, glancing up at the sun. "Half an hour. No more."
Elina nodded and stepped onto the grass, brushing back strands of hair stuck to her damp face. She looked pale—worn—and Eleanor couldn't deny that she herself felt the same.
They led the horse to the shade, tying it to a low branch. Eleanor uncorked one of their waterskins and offered it to the horse first, letting it drink in slow gulps. Then she passed it to Elina, who took it with shaking hands and drank deeply.
They sat down on the grass, leaning against the tree's wide trunk. For a few precious moments, neither spoke. As the wind whistled against the leaves above, casting shadows over their tired faces.
"You don't really believe he's okay, do you?" Elina asked softly.
Eleanor stared ahead, silent. The memory of him—his face bloodied, standing his ground for their escape—flashed behind her eyes like lightning. Her fingers curled into fists.
"I believe in him," she finally said. "That has to be enough."
Elina looked down, her fingers tracing the edge of the waterskin. "I just… I don't want to lose anyone else."
Eleanor turned her head slightly. "We can't afford to lose focus, Elina. Not now. The academy isn't far. Once we're there, we can regroup, we can plan. He knew what he was doing."
Elina didn't answer. She didn't need to. The ache in her chest said it all.
After their short rest, they remounted and continued on. The sun had begun to dip slightly, casting long shadows behind them. The road narrowed through a forested stretch, where trees arched overhead like a tunnel. The air was cooler here, but the quiet was deeper—heavier. Even the birds had gone still.
Eleanor kept her eyes sharp. She knew they weren't out of danger yet. Bandits, wild beasts, demons and other things—they were all possibilities on these unguarded roads. She reached for the hilt of the short sword at her hip, thumb resting on the guard.
Elina noticed. "Do you think someone's following us?"
"Maybe," Eleanor said. "Always assume someone is."
They rode with increased caution now, ears perked for every twig snap, every distant rustle. Once or twice, they passed strange markings on the trees—symbols carved deep into the bark. Eleanor didn't stop to study them, but she didn't ignore them either.
Finally, the trees thinned again, revealing a vast plain ahead. In the far distance, just barely visible through the shimmering heat haze, stood a spire—tall and slender, part of the academy's outer towers.
"There," Eleanor said, pointing. "We're getting close."
Elina followed her gaze, relief washing over her features. For the first time since their escape, hope flickered behind her eyes.
"Do you think he'll be there already?" she asked.
"I don't know," Eleanor admitted. "But he'll find us.
After their rest, they pushed forwards as the sun continued its descent, casting an ever golden hue over the landscape. The journey was not yet over—but they had a destination now and a fragile thread of hope to cling to.
After their rest, they pushed forwards as the sun continued its descent, casting a golden hue upon the landscape.
------
Inside the cliff, something was moving. Climbing. Ascending from the dark depths that were seen above. If someone were to look at it, they would see nothing, hear nothing. The depths pierced deep into the crust of the earth. The ledges were too steep. If someone got trapped down there, they would never make it out. Yet a figure was climbing, moving with fluidity and precision that only kept getting better.
It was slowly ascending from the darkest pits of the abyss. The dragon. It did not descend from the heavens from folktales and stories, no. It came from the furthest cracks of the world.
But whether it was a demonic dragon that would sow chaos into the hearts of people and ravage the land. Or would it be a divine dragon that would bring peace and cleanse corruption?
Only time would tell.