"We can't hold them!" Ferah shouted.
Vardy cursed under his breath. They were losing. "Fall back!" he ordered.
Without hesitation, the group broke away, moving fast through the trees.
Blades clashed behind them, shouts filled the air, but they ran, their bodies burning with exhaustion. This was far from over.
Vardy stormed into the hideout, his breathing ragged, his fingers still curled into tight fists.
The moment he entered, he slammed his staff against the wooden table, making everything on it shake.
His eyes, once clouded with Elyra's spell, now burned with something sharper.
Rage. Frustration. Regret.
"I let her slip away!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the dimly lit space.
The others stood in silence for a moment, catching their breath from the exhausting escape. Blood, sweat, and dirt stained their clothes.
Ferah, leaning against the wall with a blade still clutched in her hand, sighed. "Calm down, Vardy," she muttered. "We'll track her down."
