The sun rose behind a veil of grey clouds, painting the horizon in muted gold. The world felt quieter here — as if even the wind feared to speak.
Eryndor walked ahead of the group, his cloak drawn tightly against the chill. Each step echoed faintly against the black stones that marked the beginning of the Vale. The air shimmered with faint threads of magic, visible only to those who could sense it. To him, it was a hum beneath the skin — the same hum that now lived within his veins.
Lyra caught up to him, her steps light despite the uneven terrain. “You’ve been silent since dawn.”
“I’m listening,” Eryndor replied.
“To what?”
He hesitated. “Everything.”
The path wound downward, twisting through jagged cliffs that glittered faintly in the dim light. The rocks themselves seemed alive, r
