The first light of dawn broke over the treetops, casting long shadows across the camp. Kael was already awake, seated on a rock, sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate strokes. His thoughts were elsewhere, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the forest gave way to the distant, foreboding silhouette of the northern mountains. Today, they would reach the Edge of the Known Lands, the boundary beyond which even the most seasoned travelers dared not tread.
Morgana approached, her breath visible in the crisp morning air. She settled beside him, her expression contemplative. "You didn't sleep," she observed.
Kael paused, the whetstone still in his hand. "No," he admitted. "There's too much to think about. The road ahead, Isolde… this journey feels like it's leading us to something we can't predict."
Morgana's eyes softened, and she gave him a reassuring nod. "None of us can see what lies beyond, Kael. But we have faced the unknown before. And we've survived."
