The first seven wagons entered the narrow road without any incident.
Their wheels moved slowly across the fractured stone while soldiers watched the ridges on both sides with cold and focused expressions.
The path was only wide enough for the convoy to maintain its current formation, leaving little space for anyone to manoeuvre.
Black glass covered parts of the ridges and reflected the fading light of the crimson moon.
Smoke escaped from the cracks between the two stones, making the air hot and unpleasant to breathe.
The front section passed through, then the first wagons of the main body followed.
Core Nineteen remained on the platform above Wagon Eighteen as it approached the narrow road.
Sonya still had one palm resting against the wood, while Akaza stared toward the top of the nearest ridge.
Simon watched everything.
The road.
The soldiers.
The ridges.
The empty sky above them.
And the demons moving close to the eighteenth wagon.
Nothing seemed unusual.
