The pack abandoned them, and the trail dropped lower, winding into narrow chasms in the rock. Steep ridges loomed up around them like spears, and the snow-darkened clouds above deepened with every mile. The air felt heavier, too heavy, not just with mist, but with something else. It felt like being watched. Lucian said little. Kael hobbled along next to him, putting more weight on his walking stick. Serakha guided in silence, a hand to the onyx stone in her pouch. It was warm now. Not pulsing — glowing.
That meant they were close. They arrived at the cliff's edge near dusk, and the land dropped away abruptly, not softly, but as if wounded on the mountain's side. Below them lay the Vale of Murmur. It was not what Serakha expected.
