⚙️Chapter Fifteen: The Iron Gate and the Final Command.
The ascent out of the lunar-veined mineshafts and back into the forest was jarring. I emerged into the pre-dawn cold not through the waterfall exit, but through the jagged, temporary rupture created by Roric's desperate fight. The moon, a waning crescent, hung low and thin above the Darkwood. The air was charged, smelling of pine, ozone, and the faint, lingering metallic tang of spilled magic.
I didn't waste a second looking back at the mine entrance, praying Elias had the fortitude to follow my command and not his fear. My entire focus was North, toward the Iron Peaks, miles away across rugged, neutral terrain haunted by ancient territorial disputes.
