Chapter 9: The Ledger of Names

The road west was a wound that never closed. They rode through the morning in a loose column, the mud spattering their boots and the horses' flanks, the rain a memory that clung to their cloaks. Yan kept his eyes ahead, but his mind was a ledger, counting the hours since the poison first stirred—five days left, if the Sigh kept its cruel arithmetic. He did not trust the morning light. It was too c...