The landscape shifts gradually as he drives. Cities give way to towns, which then fade into stretches of emptiness. Pine forests line the highway, while patches of swampland reveal dark water reflecting the gray sky.
It's late March, and the air is humid even with the car's AC running. It’s not quite warm enough for summer yet, but winter's chill has passed. Everything is vibrantly green, aggressively so. Trees are budding, grass grows wild along the roadside, and flowers bloom in yards he passes.
This scene feels so different from Mystic Valley, different from the mountainous regions he's called home for most of his life, and different from the arid lands he's been chasing Numenessa around in.
He has been going in circles all his life, pursuing rumors and hunting a ghost, never expandi
