The world blurred into streaks of white and gold as Leo dragged Amaya through the forest at inhuman speed.
Wind slapped against her face. Branches bent out of their path as if afraid to touch him. The ground barely existed beneath his feet — it felt like running on air, weightless, terrifying, exhilarating.
Leo wasn't running.
He was hunting for safety.
His aura flared behind them like a comet tail, powerful enough that the air screamed around it.
"Leo—slow down—" Amaya choked out, gripping his hand so tightly her knuckles ached.
He didn't.
"We're not far enough yet."
The forest twisted around them, growing darker. The air burned with the faint scent of smoke — and something else.
Magic.
Dozens of signatures pulsed behind them like distant drumbeats. The priestess's soldiers.
Amaya's blood chilled.
"How many are following us?"
"Too many," Leo growled. "I can sense at least thirty aura signatures… and one of them feels like her."
Amaya's stomach dropped.
The priestess.
