The world swam in and out of focus, the green blurring into patches of brown and gray. Each step was a monumental effort, Elara's legs heavy and unresponsive. Her throat felt like sandpaper, her lips cracked and bleeding. The memory of cool, clear water was a phantom sensation, a cruel taunt in the relentless thirst that gripped her.

The trees, once a source of potential shelter, now seemed to loom over her, menacing figures in the deepening twilight. She couldn't tell how long she'd been walking, only that the gnawing hunger and bone-deep exhaustion were slowly eroding her resolve. The image of Julian's smug face, the venomous glint in Vivienne's eyes, flashed in her mind, fueling a flicker of defiance that barely masked her despair.

Then, through the dense foliage, a glimmer. Not of light, but of something structured, something man-made. She stumbled forward, her heart hammering against her ribs, a desperate plea for salvation rising in her chest.

The trees thinned, revealing a clearing, and Elara stopped, breath hitching in her throat. Before her stood the Blackwood Estate.