The Road to Solmere

The wind carried the scent of damp earth and distant rain as Evelyne and Azrael rode through the dense woodland. Their horses moved at a steady pace, hooves muffled by the soft forest floor. The journey had been uneventful so far, but an unshakable tension clung to the air.

Evelyne glanced at Azrael, who rode slightly ahead. Even concealed beneath his hood, his presence was unmistakable. His aura—though carefully restrained—felt like a storm waiting to break.

"You're too quiet," she said, breaking the silence.

Azrael didn't turn. "Observation, not silence, is what keeps us alive."

Evelyne rolled her eyes. "And yet, you're still riding straight into enemy territory."

Azrael smirked. "With you, no less. Bold of me, isn't it?"

Evelyne huffed but didn't argue. He wasn't wrong. This entire plan—returning to Solmere, searching for the truth—was reckless. But what choice did they have?

The spirit's warning still echoed in her mind.