A lone rider thundered down the cobbled streets of Nineveh, his cloak snapping behind him like a banner caught in a storm. His heart pounded against his ribs with every jolt of the galloping steed, his gaze fixed on the distant silhouette of the castle piercing the clouds like a crown of stone.
A trail of dust and startled cries followed in his wake. Hooves struck the cobblestones with a deafening rhythm, scattering townsfolk and catching even the city guards off-guard. Yet he paid no heed to the chaos he left behind.
'I hope I'm not too late!'
….
Within the castle, Asher tore through the gilded corridors, his breath shallow and frantic. Each step brought him closer to the nursery, and with each step, his dread mounted, curling tighter around his chest.
