The sun was rising, its lilac beams piercing through the dense trees, casting faint, eerie light over the landscape. The morning fog hung thick at the mountain's base, curling around the gnarled roots and jagged rocks like a living thing. The sky above was dull and colorless, as if this region itself rejected the dawn.
The base of the mountain was within reach.
Damon stopped, his gaze fixed on the steep incline ahead. The trees grew twisted as they stretched toward the sky, their branches like skeletal fingers clawing at the heavens.
Xander, using his spear as a walking stick, frowned. "Why did we stop? The mountain is right there. We don't have time to waste."
Damon didn't respond immediately. Dark bags sat under his eyes—he knew better than to rush forward blindly. He shook his head.
"We need to find the mountain path… and follow it."
Leona narrowed her golden eyes. "Sticking to a fixed path while we're being hunted isn't exactly a wise choice. It's suicidal."
