Desecration of a saint

Once again, the sun crept its way through the trees, casting dappled light over the forest floor. This time, we didn't wait to move. No one had slept, and the cart was gone. We set off at a light jog—or at least it was a jog for them. For me, it was closer to a run.

I managed to keep pace, my stamina holding up surprisingly well. I was used to long days of carrying heavy loads and running back and forth for my lords and masters. Compared to that, this wasn't too bad. The only thing weighing me down was a torn-up gambeson, so I felt relatively unencumbered.

The guards seemed to be handling the pace well enough, their steps steady and disciplined—no doubt a product of their training and experience. The contractors, too, moved with ease, their cloaked forms gliding forward as though untouched by fatigue.

But the Lord… he was struggling.

His breathing was heavy, labored, and his face had turned a deep shade of red. Sweat glistened on his forehead, dripping down his temples. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for him. Despite his obvious discomfort, he was the one who kept urging us on, his voice sharp and powerful whenever anyone slowed.

"Don't stop! Keep moving!" he barked, pushing himself as much as he pushed us.

We pressed on until the sun was high in the sky, its rays piercing through the thinning canopy above. Patches of sunlight broke through more frequently now, illuminating the forest floor in golden streaks.

The sight filled me with hope. The oppressive gloom that had shrouded us since entering this cursed place was finally beginning to lift. True light had found its way here, reclaiming the space inch by inch.

I had thought the distance to the forest's edge was shorter when I glimpsed it the day before, but now it was clear how deceptive the terrain had been. The end was closer—but not as close as I'd hoped. Still, the thinning shadows served as proof that we were nearing freedom.

And then, finally, after two full days of horror and exhaustion, we stepped out into the light. The nightmare was behind us. We were out. We were safe.

As if on cue, everyone collapsed onto the ground, too drained to care about anything else. We lay there for a while, letting the sun warm our faces, its light chasing away the lingering shadows that had haunted us. I could hear murmured voices among the guards—fragments of relief, disbelief, and exhaustion. Somewhere to my left, I thought I heard Richard crying, his quiet sobs mingling with the soft rustle of the breeze.

The ground beneath me was soft, a fine sand that shifted and molded around my body like a comforting embrace. It was unexpectedly soothing, inviting me to stay there and let the weight of everything that had happened sink away into the earth.

Eventually, Lord Thorne and the captain moved away from the group, speaking in low voices. They seemed to be trying to verify our location, their gestures pointing around. As I watched them, a question lingered in my mind, one I couldn't shake: Why did we go through the forest? That miserable, terrible place. Surely, there had to have been another route to wherever we were going. Why endure that nightmare?

After a while, the captain pulled out a wax-covered ball with a rope attached to it. He waited until the sun began to set before striking a flint and lighting the rope. Carefully, he placed the ball into a leather patch with more rope attached to it. He swung it around several times before releasing one end of the rope, sending the ball soaring into the sky. It erupted into a bright yellow light accompanied by a loud, echoing noise.

Lord Thorne strode back to the group, his expression calm but his voice strong with command.

"Make a fire," he ordered. "Use the rest of our wood. I want it as big as we can make it."

While we waited around the fire, I looked out at the landscape. The horizon was dominated by towering plateaus, their steep cliffs rising abruptly from the surrounding lowlands. They seemed to touch the sky, their edges softened by the haze of the distant sun. The sunlight played across the rock faces, painting them in hues of warm gold and deep rust. Once the sun dipped below the horizon, I heard the faint footfalls of hooves and saw a dust trail rising in the distance.

"Stand up and be ready!" the captain shouted at his men. Even though the contractors and I weren't soldiers, we stood too.