Day two of the Journey.
The Sleigh finally skidded to a halt.
They had reached the end of the line. Quite literally.
The path through the Whispering Mountains simply... stopped. There was no valley, no winding road, and certainly no magical Fox Sanctuary. There was only a sheer, vertical drop into a cloudy abyss that looked bottomless.
Lord Rurik, having shifted back into his human form, collapsed into a snowbank, panting steam like a locomotive.
"I am..." Rurik wheezed, "deceased. My legs... are jelly. I demand steak. I demand a massage. I demand to know why the road ended!"
Archduke Cassian stepped out of the driver's seat, adjusting his wind-blown robes. He walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down. He dropped a pebble.
They waited.
And waited.
And waited.
They never heard it hit the bottom.
"Terminal velocity achieved," Cassian noted dryly. "If we proceed, the result is splat."
