Chapter Fifty

The journey to the Brooks unfolded in a blur of bone-deep exhaustion and a gnawing fear that clawed at the edges of my consciousness. Every jostle of the carriage sent a fresh wave of nausea washing over me, the once familiar rhythm of the wheels now a relentless assault on my weakened senses.

Damian sat beside me, a statue of stoic concern.  His usual confident demeanor was replaced by a helpless anxiety that mirrored my own.  He would steal worried glances at me, his hand hovering near mine, unsure of whether to offer comfort or simply stay out of the way.

"We're almost there, Annie," he'd say, his voice strained with a tension I hadn't noticed before.  "You'll see your family soon."