The moonlight filtered through the ancient canopy, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor as two riders guided their horses along the winding path. Both women wore the distinctive marks of Vylonian warriors—heads shaved smooth as polished stone, lightweight armor crafted from treated bark that moved like second skin, and ceremonial patterns etched in blue dye across their scalps.
"Three days of riding, and we're still at least two more from Thornvale," muttered Seril, the younger of the two. Her fingers absently traced the intricate sound-wave patterns tattooed on her forearms—the mark of a sound manipulator. "I still wonder why the Queen insisted we should deliver this message to Thornvale."
Captain Nari shot her a cold glance over her shoulder, the moonlight highlighting the nature symbols etched across her bare scalp. "It's not our place to question Queen Elizabeth's commands."
