Every passing minute of the three-hour journey tightened the grip of anxiety around my chest. I shifted restlessly in my seat, as though the very fabric beneath me had turned to needles. Icarus noticed—more than once—and each time, he offered a reassuring smile, a silent gesture meant to steady me. It worked for fleeting moments, until the next surge of unease stole the air from my lungs, leaving me teetering on the edge of suffocation.

The sight of the road sign—fifty miles to ...