The valley hadn't seen mist in weeks.
But when Echo and Vaya returned with Orah and Mairon, the mountains were cloaked in a low fog that settled between the trees like breath caught in hesitation.
The gates didn't open immediately.
Three guards stood watch—Kaelen among them—and for a long moment, no one moved. Not until Echo raised his hand and let the spiral flame shimmer across his palm. The mist seemed to draw back at the sight of it, revealing the valley's edge beneath a shifting morning light.
Kaelen stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Mairon.
"Who is he?"
Echo didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned to Mairon and waited.
The young Herald lowered his hood, his spiral brand clearly visible, then gave a respectful nod. "My name is Mairon. I'm not here to claim allegiance. Only to warn."
Kaelen glanced at Orah, who stood beside them calmly, the weight of age and memory in her eyes.
