The forest thinned gradually, like breath exhaled after holding for too long.
The trees no longer loomed as closely together, and the twisted roots that once formed endless knots in their path began to ease into more familiar formations—broad trunks, soft patches of moss, and crickets chirping in the distance.
It was subtle, but Argolaith felt it in his bones.
They were close.
The Forsaken Forest still reached far in every direction, but now, off in the distance—blurred by morning mist and streaks of drifting cloud—stood the jagged outline of a mountain.
The very same mountain where everything had begun.
Kaelred saw it too.
He slowed, narrowing his golden eyes toward the horizon. "That's… the one, isn't it?"
Argolaith stepped beside him, staring at the familiar peak. It jutted from the earth like a broken tooth, its flanks covered in ancient stone and dying grass, a remnant of trials passed and memories forged in blood.
"Yeah," Argolaith murmured. "That's where we met."
