"No!" Gideon's voice pierced the stillness of the forest, reverberating through the towering trees like an alarm bell. The desperation in his shout mingled with the rustling of leaves, but he stood frozen in place, his mind racing and heart pounding. The weight of the moment pressed down on him, rendering him momentarily paralyzed as fear washed over him in waves.
Bener had been tending to a pheasant skewered over a pit, the golden skin hissing as it crisped above the flames. The scent of lemongrass and singed fat mingled with woodsmoke in the air—but the moment shattered. His instincts flared as he abandoned his grilling, his hands tightening around the hilt of his blade. He sprinted toward the groaning figure sprawled on the ground—Percival.
