The map Elara had provided was little more than a series of jagged, charcoal strokes on a piece of cured hide, but to Kaelen’s eyes, it was a precise navigation of the valley’s spiritual geography. He stood at the threshold of the forbidden northern crags, a landscape where the very air seemed to have been leeched of color. According to the archive, the True Quartz—the only material capable of stabilizing his alchemical engine—lay at the bottom of the "Well of Darkness," a natural chasm where the veil between worlds was frayed beyond repair.
"It is a place where the light forgets to shine," Kaelen whispered, his voice sounding flat and dead in the thin, cold atmosphere. He adjusted his pack, the weight of the prototype device thrumming against his back like a second, frantic heartbeat.
"
