The dry lands stretched endlessly beneath the blazing sky, a desolate expanse of cracked earth and scattered stone that offered neither shelter nor mercy.
Heat shimmered in the distance, distorting the horizon into wavering mirages.
Minerva walked at the front of the group, her posture straight and unyielding.
Her expression was solemn; her gaze locked firmly on the distant horizon as if sheer determination alone could force answers to appear. Twelve hours.
They had been tracking that evil bastard for twelve relentless hours.
And yet, there was nothing.
No footprints.
No traces of undead energy.
It was as though he had vanished into thin air.
Her thick leather boots crushed pebbles beneath her steps, the sharp crack echoing faintly in the still air. Each step left behind deep, clearly defined footprints in the dust.
Beside her, Rowena walked quietly, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings while her hand reached out to clasp Minerva's.
