In the meantime, Eskil trudged along the desolate path, each step heavier than the last. His once-proud gait was reduced to a shuffle, his body wracked with pain and exhaustion. Hunger gnawed at his insides, a relentless reminder of his dire circumstances. The world around him seemed eerily quiet, the usual bustle of travelers and merchants conspicuously absent. It was as if the very earth had turned its back on him, leaving him to wander alone in his misery.
"Damn it all," Eskil muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse and weary. He had never felt so utterly defeated, so utterly alone. The humiliation of his defeat at the hands of Alaric Steele burned like a brand on his soul, a constant reminder of his failure.