The Path of Shadows
The bridge beneath Aelir’s feet felt both solid and insubstantial — woven from threads of light and shadow, humming softly beneath every step.
All around them stretched endless darkness, pierced only by the faint glow of the path ahead.
Each step grew heavier, as though invisible hands tried to pull them backward into the void.
“We're being watched,” Lira whispered, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade.
Aelir nodded grimly.
“The closer we get, the harder it will resist.”
Ahead, the mountain loomed, cloaked in swirling mists that writhed like living things.
At its summit, a faint, crown-shaped light flickered — beautiful and terrible all at once.
The bridge narrowed as they advanced, twisting and winding like a serpent.
The air grew colder with every breat
