The ridge fell silent but for the restless horse and the tug of wind against their mantles.
Storne raised his hand.
Viktor braced, the earth solid beneath his feet, and caught Amerei’s gaze one last time—her look steadying him like no command ever could.
The air snapped as Storne’s hand dropped.
Viktor launched.
The world blurred beneath his feet, stone and grass a rhythm he knew by heart.
For a breath, he was ahead—his lungs burning, the gray stallion’s thunder still behind him. But then Gabriel spurred the beast, and in a heartbeat it tore past, hooves hammering the earth like war drums. Dust sprayed Viktor’s face.
“Dask!” Gabriel shouted over his shoulder. “Try to keep up!”
Viktor’s jaw clenched.
He fixed on the horse’s broad haunches, driving harder, each stride a jolt of fire through his legs. The stallion’s speed was merciless, bred for it, built for it. Yet still—Viktor began to close the gap.
On the ridge, Amerei leaned forward in her saddle, breath catching.
“He’s running like he did the other night!”
“There’s no way he’ll catch it,” Evander scoffed, though his knuckles whitened on the reins. “That stallion was a gift from Prince Xavien himself.”
Below, Viktor pushed, sweat burning his eyes, but he never quite passed Gabriel. He matched the stallion stride for stride, nothing more.
Storne’s mouth thinned, frustration cutting hard lines into his face.
“If I’m right, Captain Seraphim can outrun any horse.”
His words hung, heavy with both certainty and doubt.
“He’s holding back,” he growled.
The stallion’s hooves still pounded ahead, but the gap was shrinking—inch by inch, stride by stride.
Awe spilled from Amerei’s lips before she could stop it.
“You’re right, Father. Heisone of them.”
Her voice trembled with reverence, as though fate itself had just unfolded before her eyes.
Storne’s gaze shifted from his daughter to the man below.
His tone fell like a judgment.
“You believe. Now he must.”
He spurred his mount forward, thundering down the slope in a spray of dust and fury.
Amerei gasped, panic breaking her reverie.
“Where’s he going?” she asked, voice fraying.
“What is he doing?”
Evander’s hand clamped around her arm.
