Heather's POV
----
The cold morning air bit at my skin as I stood atop the eastern ridge, my cloak pulled tightly around my shoulders. Below us, the narrow trail snaked into the mountain range like a scar on the earth, half-obscured by drifting fog and thick pine trees. This was the route the Reapers had taken. The same one mentioned in the scroll—a forgotten pass carved long ago, believed sealed by the ancients. But it wasn’t sealed anymore.
Darrian stood beside me, tense, armored, and silent. His jaw was tight, his eyes scanning the mist for movement. Around us, a small group of our best warriors waited. Ronan had chosen them carefully, favoring those quick on their feet and those who had faced dark magic before.
I tried not to think about the wounds the last creature left behind.
