The torrential rain poured down on the corrugated iron roof of the auction house, creating a rhythmic sound that echoed throughout the dimly lit room. The weathered men, their faces marked by years of hard labor, leaned against… Standing on the wooden railing, watching the last horses being led into the center of the arena, the scene on the damp straw was… The chestnut horse had a dull coat and tired eyes, its ribs clearly visible. Beneath the skin and the unruly, lifeless hair that hung down his neck, he looked…
As if it belonged to another era, an animal forgotten by the world, the auctioneer, a thin man with streaked hair. Virgil Henshaw, the man with the mustache, struck his gavel on the platform and declared rather unenthusiastically, “And here we have…” Well, an unregistered horse, of unknown origin, let’s start with… At $50 each, silence fell over the stables as buyers arrived seeking good purebred dogs. It’s not the horse that struggles to hold its head high, but rather a man.
Wearing a worn-out hat and with a pensive expression, he stroked his white beard; his name was Ambrose Callaway, a stubborn man. The farmer, who had witnessed many animals being discarded as if they were worthless, exclaimed… Long sighed, hesitated for a moment, then raised his hand. 50 dollars. A few quiet giggles escaped the crowd. Ambrose and his habits. Someone was muttering about bringing useless stray animals home, but he ignored the whispers. The hammer struck down again, “Sold to Mr.
Callaway,” Ambrose couldn’t quite explain. Why did he buy the horse? Perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of instinct, but it was certainly for some reason. He sensed something unusual about the animal, what he didn’t know was that by loading the horse onto his old, rusty cart and Bring him home, and he’ll take with him a long-buried secret about his farm, a secret that will change everything. The old truck. The rumble of horse hooves echoed on the dirt road, headlights piercing through the thick evening fog, the rhythmic sound of the horses’ hooves.
The scraping sound against the rusty trailer echoed through the night. Ambrose Callaway gripped the steering wheel tightly with one hand. While his other hand rested on the worn leather of the sofa, the weight of the auction still pressed heavily on his chest. He had no reason to buy another horse, especially one in such poor condition. His farm is no longer in the same condition as it used to be; the barns are old and dilapidated, as is the fence.
Repairs are needed and money isn’t as easy to come by as it used to be, but there’s something… H’s gaze penetrated deep into his heart; it wasn’t just weariness or indifference, but also… Something else, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint, the rain had subsided. It was drizzling as he drove to his farm, the wooden gate creaking as he turned around. It opened up, a thick layer of mud under his boots, and he backed the trailer inside while the engine was off.
And I stepped outside and took a deep breath, inhaling the damp, musty smell of the earth and dry grass. The farm… It was quiet, broken only by the distant hooting of an owl and the rustling of leaves in the wind. Ambrose unlocked the trailer door. He walked to the door and stepped back a little; the horse didn’t move, it remained standing there. His ears perked up slightly at the sounds of the night, his breathing rapid, slow, and heavy.
Then, with an almost reluctant step, he walked down the slope. Ambrose watched as he did so. The horse hesitated, then gently lifted its head as if observing its surroundings. The dim light from the stable shone… The bright yellow light bathed the pasture, allowing viewers to observe the horse’s health more closely. Ambrose could see old scars along its legs, a faint white streak running down its forehead, and ribs pressed tightly together. on his skin, but despite his frail appearance, there was a strength in the way he moved, a deliberate control, as if…
Every step has a purpose, Ambrose sighed. “Well, I guess we should help him settle into a place to live.” He mumbled something, gently patting the horse’s neck. The horse startled at the touch. It wasn’t fear, but something somehow made Ambrose stop, almost as if he were… Waiting for something, Ambrose led him into the stables, directing him to an empty room. The shack, with its old wooden walls smelling of dry grass and rain-soaked earth, he filled a bucket with it.
Watching the water flow downwards, the horse cautiously took a sip before stepping back. It was neither desperate nor panicked. “These are the most abandoned animals he has under his control,” Ambrose said, crossing his arms. Observing him, he asked, “What’s going on, young man?” The horse merely blinked at him. Its eyes were deep and profound. His brown eyes were enigmatic; I only recognized him when Ambrose leaned against the stable door. He noticed something strange, a sign partially obscured beneath the mud.
And the dirt clung tightly to the horse’s flank, making it dull, almost invisible in the dim light. The lighting was dim, like a warehouse light, but there was no mistaking it; it was a brand, an old, faded brand. Tim Ambrose’s heart pounded as he realized Mark was so familiar, so incredibly familiar that his stomach tightened. Memories he had long buried suddenly resurfaced, and for the first time that night, Ambrose felt… With a feeling that was almost frightening, Ambrose couldn’t take his eyes off the tattoo on his body.
He moved closer, gently running his calloused fingers over the faded mark on the horse’s back, smoothing away some of the dried-on streaks. Mud, his breath caught in his throat; the shape was unmistakable: a circle with an arrow. As a result, Ambrose slowly took a step back, his heart beating faster—a sign that belonged to him. We arrived at Holston Stables, one of the most prestigious racetracks in the country, renowned for producing champions. He sold horses worth more than his entire farm, but somehow a horse from such a place was only worth half that.
Being left to starve at a remote auction for just $50, that fact sends shivers down my spine. Its spine—this is not just an anonymous, abandoned horse; this animal has a story to tell. Something someone had clearly tried to erase. Ambrose swallowed hard; he needed… After finding the answer, he turned to the riding equipment room, where there was an old, dusty tool cabinet. His hands trembled slightly as he rummaged through the piles of forgotten saddles and rusty tools.
a drawer full of faded documents and crumpled auction catalogs that he had spent time looking through. Years of attending auctions, keeping records of breeds and farm lines, that’s one… It’s a habit from the time he harbored big dreams, when he thought he could make a name for himself in the world of horse racing. Turning the crumpled pages, his eyes darted from one old entry to another, and then suddenly he spotted something… The photo shows a younger version of the same horse, with a glossy coat and toned muscles.
and asserted that he was standing tall, his eyes blazing with the fire of a champion, below… The image shows the name printed in bold, elegant lettering, reading “The Path Builder, Created by Iron”. Legacy is owned by Holston Stables. Ambrose breathed heavily; he had heard that name before. Before hell broke out, everyone had heard of that name, “The Pioneer,” and it wasn’t just an ordinary horse. Five years ago, it was a legend, once one of the most promising racehorses in the country.
People called it… It was a horse with a brave heart, famous for its ability to turn the tide in seemingly impossible races, overcoming all obstacles, but then one day… Disappearing without a trace, for reasons unknown, the racing community is buzzing with speculation, possibly due to injury. The scandal was a cover-up, but so far no definitive answers have been given. Ambrose’s perspective… The old photograph of the frail, weary creature before him seemed… It’s unbelievable, how could a once-great champion fall to this level, and why?
Someone wanted to get rid of him so badly that the horseman stood silently. In the booth, looking at him with those deep, understanding eyes, Ambrose felt a shiver run down his spine. It climbed onto his back; somehow, someone didn’t want this horse here. He had found it, and now he was embroiled in something far bigger than he had ever anticipated. Ambrose sat in his usual spot. A wooden table, the dim light of a farm lamp casting long shadows across the room, an old racing catalog.
The image of the Creator unfolded before him, as if demanding an answer. I wonder how a horse that was once worth millions of dollars ended up being abandoned at an auction in a remote area and sold for a pittance. More importantly, who allowed that to happen? Outside, the stable creaked in the wind. The howling echoed through the trees, the guide had settled into his sleeping quarters for the night, but Ambrose couldn’t shake off the creeping feeling of unease.
Through his chest, he reached for the old rotary telephone on the wall. Hovering above the dial, there was only one person he could call in his deep, warm voice. He gasped for breath, and after three rings, a voice answered: “Are you still alive, Callaway?” Ambrose Huff, it’s great to hear from you, Levi. Levi Grayson used to be a leader. He was a trainer in the horse racing world before his serious conflict with Holston stables. He and Ambrose had known each other for a very long time; both started their careers around the same time, but while Ambrose had made the choice…
The peaceful life of a small-town farmer. Levi had climbed to the top until he… You’re not at your peak anymore, tell me you just called me to tell me bedtime stories? Levi’s voice was gruff, tinged with suspicion. Ambrose leaned forward. I gripped the receiver tightly; today I bought an old, abandoned horse, and it had a distinguishing mark. Noticing the silence, Ambrose hesitated, “Which brand?” Holston Stables. With a decisive sigh on the other end of the line, you must be very positive, and I think that’s…
The guide and the telephone line went silent for a moment. Ambrose thought Levi had hung up. But where are you, at my farm? But listen, Levi, I’m coming, the line’s down. Ambrose sat dead, leaning back, breathing slowly; it was clear Levi knew what was happening. Something happened, and judging by his reaction, the next morning probably wasn’t going to be anything good. As the sun began to rise over the hills, an old, black pickup truck rolled down the long dirt road leading to Ambrose’s house.
Levi stepped out, his tall figure stiff with tension, his once black hair now streaked with white. Stre, with deep wrinkles and gray hair etched on his face, looked around wearily before… Striding toward the pen, the guide stood inside, ears perked up as Levi approached him for a long time, simply staring at him, then spoke softly. He muttered, “It’s definitely him!” Ambrose crossed his arms, “Tell me.” What’s going on, Levi? Why is a horse like this being abandoned?
Levi dragged it along. One hand was lowered to cover his face because Ambrose, the one who created the path, was not an outcast. Make sure he’s gone. Ambrose felt a chill run down his spine, and if they… If they knew he was still alive, they would want to finish what they started, a tense situation. Silence enveloped the stables, broken only occasionally by the rustling of Way Maker’s horse stirring in the stall. Ambrose watched. Levi’s face showed a look of searching for answers; the older man looked truly bewildered, utterly bewildered.
That wasn’t something Ambrose had seen in him before St spoke to Levi Ambrose. His voice was low as he asked, “Who would want to abandon a horse like this? And why?” “Leave,” he breathed heavily, running his hand through his gray hair. Holston Stables This isn’t just an ordinary racetrack; it has power, money, and a long history. They were hiding things they didn’t want the world to know. Ambrose narrowed his eyes. Levi hesitated, then turned to look at the horse with a very expressive face.
He can’t read. Five years ago, he was their “golden boy.” He has an unparalleled strong heart, but just before the Belmont Stakes, he… Ambrose frowned and disappeared. “He’s gone,” he said. “Do you mean they lost a million dollars?” The racehorse dooll spent the night with Levi, shaking his head, “No, they.” They didn’t lose him, they buried him, a heavy burden weighing on Ambrose’s chest. There are rumors that Levi is continuing his training, with some saying he was injured in Holston.
He didn’t want to be reported badly in the press, while others thought he might have tested positive for something. That may have ruined their reputation, but I never believed those stories. Ambrose leaned on the stall. He stood with his arms crossed in front of the door, then wondered what had happened? Levi glanced around the stables. If I think someone is listening, I assume the person who created the path has seen something he doesn’t. Ambrose scoffed, “He’s just a horse.” Levi replied, “What could he possibly have seen?” Levi’s jaw tightened.
I don’t know, but I know for sure that Holston wasn’t just throwing things around. If the Champions League wants him to leave, they have perfectly valid reasons. Ambrose Glancing at the guide, the horse stood still, observing them with its deep, penetrating gaze. Intelligent eyes, something about the way he behaves, a quiet control. Its keen senses were unlike any horse Ambrose had ever owned, so what now? Ambrose asked, “What should I do with him?” Levi’s voice was low and husky.
“Either you run away.” Either he or you will find out the truth, but either way, Ambrose will look him straight in the eye, look him in the face. It would be extremely serious if Holston discovered that Way Maker was still alive; they wouldn’t just… Go find him, and they will come find you too—a chilling fear gripped Ambrose’s heart. But he spent his entire life living a secluded life, avoiding trouble. Now, unintentionally, he had walked straight into a dangerous situation with no turning back – a cold wind.
The wind howled through the open stable door, shaking the wooden beams above. Ambrose sensed the weight in Levi’s words. A feeling of unease welled up in his chest: “They’ll come looking for me too,” the thought made him anxious. A shiver ran down his spine; he was never the type to seek trouble, but somehow trouble always found him. Anyway, he was the guide, and he stirred in his cage, his ears twitching as if he sensed something. A tense atmosphere prevailed; Ambrose was certain that this old horse was no ordinary animal.
But is he the key to unlocking a buried secret, or merely an unsettling reminder of something? Holston’s stables wanted to forget one thing: it was clear that keeping him here was a risk. Levi let out a slow sigh and Turning toward the barn door, the sound of boots crunching on the straw-covered floor, you have no idea what’s going on. If you’re fascinated by Ambrose, tell me what Ambrose said. His voice was firm, “What the hell am I dealing with?” Levi hesitated before glancing ahead.
The Horse Once More Hon Stables racetrack is not just a horse training facility, they also have… They have powerful connections and have covered up many scandals in the past. If the person who created it is still alive, it means their plan has gone awry. Ambrose Levi frowned, thinking they were going to kill him. His face darkened. Maybe yes, maybe no, but one thing is certain: if they let him go, it wouldn’t be because… A tense silence fell over the stable.
Ambrose leaned against his stall. With his arms folded tightly, his farm was always his refuge, his hiding place. The world, but now it feels different, naked, vulnerable, a sudden noise from outside rings out. Both men turned their heads abruptly when they heard the sound of tires screeching in the distance. Tim Ambrose’s heart pounded as he walked toward the barn door and peered outside. Under the nighttime headlights, a black SUV was slowly crawling down the long road leading to the house.
“Move slowly, carefully, damn it,” Levi muttered. “They’ve…” Ambrose clenched his jaw; he had lived a quiet life for decades to avoid it. Trouble, but now he’s at the center of it all, along with the men in that SUV. “We didn’t come here to chat,” he said, turning to the guide who was standing upright. And still sitting in his booth, observing everything with a quiet, intelligent expression, he said, “What kind of mess have you gotten me into, kid?
The SUV!” The car stopped, the engine sputtered, then a car door opened, and a low, rumbling sound echoed. The sputtering sound of the SUV engine made Ambrose uneasy; he wiped the sweat from his brow. Clutching her jeans tightly with both hands, she tried to remain calm, regardless of who these people were. “We didn’t come here by chance,” Levi gritted his teeth. “Silence! Let me handle this.” Ambrose wasn’t entirely sure, but when the second car door opened, two people appeared.
Both men stepped out, dressed far too formally for farm life, one tall and burly. One man wore a black wool coat over a very expensive-looking shirt; the other was shorter, thinner, and had sharp eyes. His gaze was fixed on the stables as if he already knew what was inside. Ambrose stepped onto the porch, his boots still intact. Rubbing against the wooden planks, that’s something I can help you with the higher levels. The man smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“I’m Ambrose Callaway.” Ambrose paused to think before speaking. In response to the question from the man in the wool coat, he pulled out a shiny leather wallet. He opened his bag and pulled out a badge that read, “Richard Holston, I run Holston Stables.” His voice was soft, calm, the kind of voice that didn’t need to be loud to… It drew attention. Ambrose’s stomach churned. Holston, the man standing on… The porch belongs to Richard Holston, the very man who owned the stable that produced dozens of champion racehorses, a man who rarely…
Ambrose tried to maintain a calm demeanor when leaving the Kentucky estate unless it was something truly important. Holston, a neutral observer, was surprised to have such a late visitor. He smiled again. I’ve taken off my badge, sorry for taking up an hour of your time. I won’t take up any more of your time, I just need… Ambrose folded his arms and asked a few questions. Holston’s eyes glanced towards the stables. I believe he recently bought one. Horses at the auction.
Ambrose felt Levi stir slightly beside him. I picked up all the horses. Holston’s smile never faded, but this particular smile was different. He thought, “Maybe he belongs to us.” Ambrose’s gunshot echoed in his ears. He knew this would happen, but hearing those words still sent shivers down his spine. Holston nodded, “A few years ago, a horse went missing; it was a really beautiful horse.” But he disappeared without a trace, and no one knew what had happened to him until…
We heard that a farmer had found some old chestnuts with a very distinctive appearance. Ambrose swallowed hard, trying to keep his face expressionless, and if I had Holston’s smile faded slightly, then he said, “I want to ransom him. I’ll pay a high price.” That’s far more than anything you spent at the auction. Finally, Levi spoke up. (Speaking softly) It sounds funny, Mr. Holston, that a horse like that could mysteriously disappear; it’s quite strange. Holston barely glanced at him.
“I didn’t come here to talk about the past, I came here to…” “Take back what belongs to me!” Ambrose clenched his fists at his sides. His instincts told him not to trust this guide; he was more than just a stray horse. Holston is a troublemaker, and troublemakers like this don’t get a second chance. “I appreciate your offer,” Ambrose said cautiously, “but I have no intention of selling.” The thin man beside Holston finally spoke, his voice colder. Sharp ER That was a mistake.
A long silence fell between them. Holston sighed. Through the gap in his nose, he adjusted the cuff of his coat, thinking, “Think about it carefully, Mr. Callaway…” I warned him that some things are better left buried, and he turned away without saying another word. As he walked toward the SUV, the thin man hesitated, his eyes fixed on Ambrose. Like a silent threat. Then the door slammed shut, the engine roared, and then… They arrived and departed as silently as they had arrived.
Ambrose breathed a sigh of relief. He had never… Realizing he was holding Levi, Levi muttered a curse—not a request, but a curse. Ambrose turned toward the stables, his teeth clenched, and then they had just… That was also a mistake, because if Holston wanted to keep something a secret, Ambrose would have been punished. They’ll definitely dig it up; the distant sound of the SUV engine has gradually faded away. It was late at night, but the echoes of Holston’s words still lingered in the chilly air.
Ambrose stood on the porch, looking down. The road was deserted, his jaw clenched, every instinct telling him only one thing: Holon! “It’s not over yet,” Levi sighed slowly beside him. “You know what this means.” Ambrose nodded, his eyes darkening with determination. “Yes, they don’t just want…” The lead man turned back; they wanted him to leave. Levi gave him a sharp glance and said, “You’re not the one.” “Are you thinking of abandoning it?” Ambrose turned and walked towards the stables.
No way! Inside that old wooden house, the light was dim, and there was a faint smell of hay and horse. Sweat poured from his airways as the stablehand stood there, his ears twitching at Ambrose’s words. The horse approached, having silently observed them all this time, waiting. Ambrose placed her hand firmly on his neck, feeling the warmth beneath her palm. “You have a story to tell, don’t you, young man?” Way Maker breathed warm air onto him. Levi leaned against the bathroom door in the cool air, his arms crossed.
If you… We need to take this seriously and find out what Holston is hiding. Ambrose nodded and I knew where to begin. The next morning, Ambrose and Levi sat at the old wooden table. At the table in The Farmhouse, a laptop lay open between them, its screen light flickering on their tired faces. They scrolled through article after article looking for any information mentioning the disappearance of Way Makers. Reports from five years ago all followed the same script: Tragic loss, champion vanished without a trace, mystery reigns.
The fate of the racehorses remains undecided, but no one has the answer, and there has been no official statement from the authorities. The stable showed no signs of damage, and there was no explanation for how a million-dollar horse could have mysteriously disappeared, Levi grumbled. They’ve cleared the story. Ambrose rubbed his temples; there must be… Something they had overlooked, then buried deep within the search results, he found it. A small, forgotten blog post from a former race track employee—he clicked on that page.
Slow loading, blurry text, lots of ads, red headlines. The night guide has disappeared; what really happened? Ambrose and Levi have a conversation. Ambrose glanced over and began to read aloud: “I worked at Holston stables for three years.” I saw things I shouldn’t have seen, and the night before, the guide had disappeared. Something happened in that shed, something terrible, a chill ran down my spine. The post went on to describe a heated argument between Richard Holston and an unidentified man concerning Ambrose’s spine.
One employee said he overheard some of their conversations, basically about a failed business deal and someone. There’s a price to pay, but the most horrifying part is at the end of the article. The creator of the work didn’t just disappear randomly; he was meant to disappear, and I think someone died. That night, because of that incident, the words sent shivers down everyone’s spine. Levi leaned against the wall. Ambrose exhaled sharply, his fingers clenching tightly… At the edge of the table, this isn’t just a story about a horse, but about something much bigger.
Levi nodded, and if Holston was willing to go this far to keep it a secret, then Ambrose… Looking towards the warehouse where the guide was standing, completely unaware of the storm brewing around them, we were in big trouble. It was more dangerous than we thought. The farmhouse seemed smaller, and the atmosphere was heavier. Ambrose stared at the words on the screen. Way Maker had not only disappeared, but had disappeared mysteriously; he was supposed to disappear. “I think someone died that night because of it,” Levi sighed slowly.
His fingers tapped lightly on the table. Holston wasn’t just covering up one shortcoming. The horse. He’s concealing a crime. Ambrose’s jaw tightened, and if someone died then… That means the evidence is somewhere, we just need to find it before they find us. The sudden knock on the door made both of them freeze; not in panic, but not quite either… Levi acted first, instinctively reaching for his rifle. Ambrose leaned against the wall and looked through the small window, seeing a young woman.
Standing on the porch, her dark coat was soaked with morning mist, and she looked anxious, constantly shifting her weight from foot to foot. But when she saw Ambrose watching, she raised her head with a silent determination. Ambrose hesitated before… As soon as she opened the door, the woman asked, “Who are you?” She swallowed hard. “My name is CLA.” The name Lawson was like a punch to the stomach for Levi, who stood stiffly beside him. His voice was firm but urgent: “I know about Way Maker and I know why Holston wants…” “He’s dead,” Ambrose glanced at Levi and stepped aside.
“You’d better follow him.” Claire sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in her hand, as if it were the only thing keeping her spirits up. “Lawson is my father,” she said, her voice trailing off, “he worked for Holston.” He had worked in the stables for many years, but five years ago everything changed; he discovered something. He didn’t intend to do that, and then one night he never came home again. Levi gasped. That same night, the guide disappeared.
Claire nodded, her eyes darkening with grief. Holston said it was an accident caused by my father being drunk and falling from a height. It was the attic, but my father didn’t drink and he certainly didn’t fall, her hands trembled. She pulled a small USB drive from her jacket and placed it on the table, saying, “This contains the security footage from that incident.” That night, my father must have known something was about to happen because he kept it a secret before they arrived.
That suggests… “Everything about Holston arguing with my dad, the fight, and what happened afterward,” Ambrose stared. Looking at that tiny piece of plastic and metal, knowing it held the key to everything, Levi muttered, “This evidence could provide…” Holston got out, but before anyone could move, the sound of tires on the gravel echoed. Levi He rushed to the window, his face darkening; the black SUV was still there, Claire’s breath still lingered. They found me, and a gunshot shattered the front window.
Levi yelled, “Spray it all over the room!”, then grabbed CLA’s arm and… Pulling her toward the back door, Ambrose didn’t think he’d just acted that way to get there. As they fled, another gunshot rang out, but Ambrose showed no concern. They no longer cared about themselves; they came not only to find themselves but also to… They finished what they had started, gunfire tearing through the night as Ambrose Levi and Clare rushed toward the warehouse, breathless, a bullet lodged in the truck’s windshield and fell to the ground…
The mud was thick, but Ambrose didn’t falter; the trailblazer was their only escape route, and he flung the door wide open. The stable door was locked, his gaze fixed on the horse, the fire still burning, the heart of a… The champion had no time to saddle, no time to jump onto the horse’s back, CLA hastily climbed on behind. Levi mounted another horse just as Holston’s men charged toward the warehouse. With his gun raised, Ambrose kicked away the old racehorses flanking Maker.
He stretched forward as if he had never stopped running. The sound of hooves echoed on the rain-soaked ground, his muscles bulging. The SUVs glided smoothly through the mud, their headlights flashing intensely as they attempted to pass through. They tried to keep up but had no chance; the guide was made for this purpose, the railway was ahead. The bridge, looming like a deadly trap with its rotting wooden beams and rusty tracks, was their only option. The road builders fired their projectiles onto the Hooves Landing bridge, which stood firmly on unstable ground.
Ambrose held his breath as the planks creaked and crumbled beneath their feet. Levi’s horse followed immediately after… The first SUV braked sharply at the edge of the cliff, cracking a large section of the rock face. The bridge collapsed into the Raging Riv below, trapping Holston’s soldiers. Their path was destroyed, they couldn’t follow it. Ambrose dragged Waym Maker somewhere. His trembling hands stopped as he gently patted the horse’s wet neck. Levi’s breath… CLA still held onto his waist, her weight pressing against him as they turned to look back at the rubble.
The bridge was now just a pile of rubble. CLA gasped, “We made it across, Ambrose.” Looking down at Waymaker, who stood motionless, a slow smile flickered across his face. That was a great race, old man. The world had once forgotten you, but now they will… miss.
