Chapter 43: Riders of the Forgotten Line
The wind outside the city had teeth.
Dust swirled as Elric and Lira stepped onto the outer road, cloaks drawn close. Behind them, the city gates remained open—but the silence they left behind felt heavier than the road ahead.
The three riders stood beside their horses. Now that the urgency had passed, Elric took the time to study them properly.
The leader removed his hood first—a man in his thirties, with weatherworn skin, dark hair streaked by sun, and a jagged scar beneath his left ear.
"Elric," he said, extending a hand. "Name's Roran Vale. Scout-lead for the settlement of Halcroft. Out near the Ashridge line."
Elric took his hand. "You said you were healers."
"We were," Roran said. "Before the soil started to burn and the children stopped speaking their own names."
The second rider, a younger woman with a hawk feather braided into her hair, stepped forward. Her voice was clear, steady.
"Neera Calden," she said. "I run the last herbal station east of the ridge. My sister was the first to lose her voice. I came because no one else would."