The moon hung pale and swollen over the jagged ridgeline, its light a ghostly tide spilling across the valley below. Shadows stretched long and cold, painting the fractured earth in silver and black. Far in the distance, faint sparks dotted the horizon, campfires of wandering travelers or traders braving the high plains at night. Their flames wavered like fragile stars, swallowed again and again by the immensity of the dark.
Leo stood apart from the others, high on the slope of the ruined causeway that had once carried caravans across these lands. Now, only broken stones jutted like bones through the earth, their surfaces slick with frost, their carvings half-devoured by time. His cloak was drawn tight around him, but the chill found its way through, needling his skin and filling his lungs with a biting clarity.
