The night stretched endlessly, the vast expanse of land blurring beneath their feet.
Argolaith's breath was controlled, steady—his body had long adapted to the strain of constant movement. Every muscle burned, but he didn't slow.
Malakar moved beside him, effortless and unbothered, his skeletal form gliding through the darkness like a wraith.
Kaelred, still trapped in Malakar's shadow, continued his stream of complaints.
"I swear, the second we stop, I am throwing something at both of you."
Malakar smirked. "Noted."
"I mean it. A rock. A whole tree. Maybe an entire mountain, if I find one."
Argolaith chuckled, adjusting his pace. "You're very vocal for someone who isn't even running."
Kaelred scoffed. "Oh, I'm sorry. Should I be grateful that the creepy undead mage finally decided to use his overpowered shadow tricks now and not when I was suffering before?"
Malakar's violet flames flickered in amusement. "Yes."
Kaelred muttered something under his breath but didn't argue.
