Morgana hadn't argued. Neither had the others. They understood—some fights were personal, and that didn't make them less important.
So they'd turned west, Ba'narussa carrying them at speeds that made the landscape blur beneath them. The divine beast seemed to sense the urgency, pushing herself harder than normal, eating up miles with relentless efficiency.
After several hours of flight, the western territories came into view. The land here was different from Drakenten's rolling hills—more rugged, with forests of evergreen that stretched for miles and mountains rising in the distance. Snow dusted the higher elevations despite it being only early winter.
And cutting through the forest like a dark scar was the demon legion.
