A thin mist clung to the mountain pass as the trio reached what remained of Petra's old watchpost, a crumbling stone structure buried in ivy and silence. Years ago, it had stood as the first checkpoint for trade. Now, it was home to little more than shadows.
Lucien halted his horse, dismounting with calculated grace. "Stay behind me," he instructed without turning.
Evelyne sat still, clutching the edge of her saddle. Liora followed quietly, her gaze drawn to the dark archway ahead half-broken and wrapped in vines.
Lucien drew his hood lower as he stepped into the clearing. A figure stirred near the fallen gate.
"You should have sent a hawk," the man said gruffly, stepping from behind the rubble. He was lean, sharp-featured, and wore the Petra badge upside down signaling no allegiance.
"I'd rather risk the road than parchment intercepted," Lucien replied.
The man studied him, then grinned. "Still cryptic as ever, Lord Blackthorne."
