The old woman led them into her modest home, several other villagers gathering curiously outside once word spread that strangers had arrived recognizing the hidden Westwood symbol.
"My name is Maren," she said, settling them around a worn wooden table while a younger woman, clearly her granddaughter, brought simple refreshment despite their evident surprise at hosting such unexpected guests. "This village has carried these stories carefully since before my own birth, passed down through families who remained loyal to the Northern Realm even after its supposed destruction."
"You said survivors passed through this region," Elena said carefully. "Can you tell us more about that?"
Maren nodded slowly, her weathered expression carrying the particular care of someone handling precious, fragil
