Nysha and Ashwing stepped closer as the Matriarch took a single step back, clearing the way.
Kael spoke quietly, arms crossed.
"One last thing, Prince."
Lindarion looked at him.
Kael's expression was unreadable.
But his tone carried weight.
"If you find the source of the fractures… don't confront it alone."
"I'm not planning to."
Kael nodded once.
Then stepped aside.
The path south unfurled before them—a narrow corridor of woven runes leading down into the lower forest, disappearing into mist.
The air changed instantly—
heavier, warmer, humming with something like sand and old magic.
Ashwing hopped onto Lindarion's shoulder.
"This is it then," he whispered, claws tightening.
"South. Desert. Monsters. Bad decisions."
Nysha smirked. "You forgot ancient gods."
"Don't remind me."
Lindarion took the first step onto the runic pathway.
The forest whispered in response.
Branches swayed despite the still air.
Leaves rustled in a language older than anything written.
