Chapter 87

Nicolas POV

At first, I thought the forest was beautiful.

The trees rose like ancient guardians, their trunks thick with moss, their branches stretching toward the sky in endless arches. Shafts of sunlight slipped through the leaves, painting the ground in golden mosaics. The air carried a freshness I had never tasted in the world outside, crisp with pine and damp soil. If I ignored the ache in my muscles and the weight of uncertainty, I might have even called it peaceful.

But ...