At around three in the morning, while the city slept under dim lantern light and distant patrol routes, Noah slipped out of the Imperial City, his movements precise, silent, blending into shadows, avoiding watchful eyes, bypassing guarded paths, moving with a purpose that did not allow hesitation.
His destination was the Desmont Mountains.
His mission was simple in words.
Complicated in execution.
Deliver part of the order.
Train them.
Prepare them.
At the edge of the forest, where the trees grew thick and the air carried the scent of damp soil and wild growth, a guide waited, his posture tense, his eyes alert, because even though Icarus had strengthened his connection with Kiara, trust did not come easily in their world, and the guide had clear instructions not to reveal the main hideout where families resided.
