Gareth's roar still echoed in Luke's ears when the knight hurled himself forward, driving his entire weight into the lunging abomination. The sound was a clash of steel and flesh, of bone shattering under sheer momentum. The beast's claws raked against his armour as both tumbled across the ground, Gareth's blade buried deep within its grotesque torso. The collision tore them off the main path, clearing the way—if only for a moment.
That moment was all Luke and Ilyrana needed.
"Hold on!" Luke barked as Vartha surged ahead, her paws hammering against the blood-soaked earth. The great tiger's muscles rippled under them, every stride pushing through smoke and flame as though the battlefield itself tried to hold her back. Luke didn't dare look back. He didn't have to. The sound behind him told the story well enough—the clash of steel, the guttural roars of abominations, and the cries of knights standing their ground.
