The storm raged over Verathia, lightning cutting through the darkness like a jagged blade. Rain poured from the heavens, drenching the city in an icy deluge. Elara pressed onward through the torrential downpour, her heart pounding as she fled from the palace, the weight of Alistair's obsession pressing heavily on her shoulders. She had narrowly escaped his grasp, but she could feel his anger simmering beneath the surface, a tempest waiting to unleash itself.
As she stumbled through the narrow alleyways, she found herself grappling with a mix of fear and exhilaration. Each step away from the palace felt like a step toward freedom, yet the knowledge of Alistair's relentless pursuit haunted her. He would come for her. She had no doubt about that. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, but she pressed on, her resolve hardening with each passing moment.
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