The trip to the academy stretched on in silence.
The steady rhythm of hooves striking dirt was the only sound filling the endless road, a dull clop, clop, clop that drilled into Avin's skull until he thought he might go mad. Hours bled into each other, broken only by the creak of leather saddles, the occasional flap of a bird overhead, and the rustle of wind through the dense canopy above.
His body ached from riding. His thighs were stiff, his spine sore, and his hands clutched the rope reins so tightly that his palms throbbed. It wasn't just fatigue—it was the weight of everything he'd been through, pressed into each step of the horse beneath him.
