They crossed the finish line with Elias’s , a victory so certain it didn't even require a fight. In that moment, it wasn't just about winning a race; it was the quiet, undeniable proof that sometimes, the greatest control comes from knowing exactly when to let go.
Slowly, deliberately, Elias lowered his hands. He relaxed his grip on the leather reins, letting them go slack against Cinder’s neck. It was a sign of total trust. Without the constant tension of the bit, Cinder didn’t slow down; she stretched her neck further, her stride becoming long and effortless. hands_down
She surged. The wind whipped Elias’s silks until they snapped like flags. Fifty yards from the finish, the gap between Cinder and the rest of the field grew from two lengths to five, then ten. The roar of the crowd became a distant hum. They crossed the finish line with Elias’s ,
Elias looked to his left and right. There was no one close enough to challenge them. He felt a strange, sudden peace. This was the moment his grandfather had told him about—the moment you knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that the race was yours. He relaxed his grip on the leather reins,