The morning sun cast long shadows across the barren landscape as Elara and her companions prepared to set off once more. The air was crisp, carrying a faint hint of moisture that spoke of rain on the horizon. The relic, the Heart of the Ancients, pulsed steadily in Elara's grasp, its light a beacon of hope and power—but also a reminder of the trials that still lay ahead.
As they packed their belongings and doused the remnants of their campfire, a sense of unease settled over the group. The previous night had been filled with restless dreams and half-heard whispers, as if the very air around them was alive with unseen forces.
"We need to move quickly," Kirin said, his voice low but urgent. His eyes scanned the horizon, ever alert for signs of danger. "I don't like staying in one place for too long, especially not after what we just went through."
