The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 866

Later that evening, they set up camp at the base of the mountain. A fire crackled in the center of the site, sparks occasionally dancing upward before vanishing into the thick nightfall. The tropical rainforest wrapped them in heavy silence, broken only by the relentless hum of insects.

The tent flaps were drawn shut. Leilani was already fast asleep. She had woken up at the crack of dawn to forage for medicinal herbs to treat Konrad Keane, followed by a grueling trek through the jungle. Knowing she wasn't needed for the watch, she finally let exhaustion pull her under.

Though they had a rough plan in place, the sheer difficulty and unpredictable variables kept Callahan wide awake. While the rest of the camp slept, he sat by the flickering fire, studying a weathered, dog-eared map spread across his knees.

Without a sound, Payton Larson appeared from the shadows, leaning heavily on his smooth bamboo cane. He slowly lowered himself onto a thick tree stump across from Callahan, resting the cane against his leg. Then, with deliberate slowness, he tossed a dry piece of wood into the flames.

Despite Payton's quiet approach, Callahan's heightened senses—honed since arriving in Northern Myanor—picked it up immediately. He looked up.

"Mr. Langley, you're up late," Payton noted, his voice carrying its usual raspy weight. How a completely blind man knew exactly who was sitting across from the fire was a mystery of its own.

The fire devoured the fresh kindling, flaring brighter. Callahan's gaze flickered to Payton's empty pant leg and sightless eyes.

"You're up late too," Callahan replied. "You have something you want to say."

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