They moved swiftly through the forest, silent but alert. The undergrowth thickened, branches clawing at their clothes. Every snapped twig echoed too loud.
Half a mile in, Adrian found something glinting in the dirt—a broken piece of charcoal, crushed underfoot. Lukas's.
He clenched his fist around it. "He's close."
The trail led to a clearing near the river. A small campfire burned low, three figures crouched around it. One of them, bound and gagged, was Lukas.
Kerren and two men sat nearby, arguing in harsh whispers.
"…you said we'd scare the Builder, not hurt the boy," one hissed.
"Scare him, hurt him—doesn't matter!" Kerren snapped. "Once the Builder leaves, the lords won't bother with us. We go back to living how we always have!"
Adrian stepped into the clearing. "You mean, living afraid?"
The three men froze.
Kerren's eyes widened. "Builder—"
Adrian didn't let him finish. He moved like a hammer striking steel—crossing the distance in three strides, wrenching the spear from Kerren's grasp, and slamming him backward into a tree.
"You took my apprentice," he said quietly. "You thought fear would stop me. You were wrong."
Kerren snarled, "You're no savior—you're bringing war to us!"
Adrian's grip tightened on the spear shaft. "No. I'm bringing change. You're the one choosing war."
Torren and the others disarmed the remaining men. Lukas, shaking but alive, managed a weak smile as Elara (who had followed despite Adrian's order) cut his ropes.