The freezing mountain wind howled through the razor crags of the Iron Range, biting into Sagiri's exposed skin as he moved across the high northwestern ridges.
He was minimizing the use of the archive as much as possible because of the relics inside of him.
He leaped across a wide chasm between two jagged peaks. His boots landed on a steady rock edge, and he let himself pause for a second.
The weight of the archive pulsed steadily in his blood, radiating a deep, rhythmic warmth that kept his limbs agile against the bitter, treacherous terrain.
Inside the archive pocket, Nokai rested silently beneath its sheath, its dark steel humming faintly with quiet, predatory anticipation.
He had been running for hours through the rugged northwestern passes, putting leagues of frozen wilderness between him.
He could only hope Zaira and N'varu had managed to keep the Kun of the west from moving northwest to pursue him.
