The Weeping Woods, with their sorrowful golden leaves, offered no comfort. Kael and Elara’s plan to broadcast their truth was a razor’s edge they needed to be close enough to pack territories to be detected, but not so close they’d be immediately overrun. They decided to head for the Mirror Lakes, a neutral, reflective basin on the border between Stonehaven, Frostfang, and Dawnhowl lands. It was a place of truce, where sound and light carried strangely. A perfect, public stage.
But first, they had to cross a sliver of Stonehaven’s outermost territory to reach it.
They moved like ghosts, Kael’s shadow-cloak now permanently laced with Elara’s silver light bending the moonlight around them, creating a blur of shimmering twilight. It was concealment, but it felt conspicuous, a walking anomal
