The journey from Drakemoor Castle to the Dread Peaks was a grueling test of endurance. The steeds, led by Faelar, maintained their breakneck pace. The perpetually cold climate of Aethelgard gave way to an even more biting chill as we rode north. We crossed vast snow-dusted plains and black forests.
The terrain grew steadily more challenging. We were forced to move from an outright gallop to a careful, swift trot. We were not traveling across a kingdom so much as we were an ancient battlefield. The magic of the land felt exhausted, perpetually wounded by centuries of temporal instability.
I rode Whisperwind hard. The mare was tireless, responding instantly to the slightest pressure of my knees. Torian rode close beside me, his presence a constant, anchoring weight. Lady Elara and the si
