The journey toward the distant shimmer was grueling. The mountains seemed to stretch endlessly, each peak hiding another, steeper climb, as if the land itself was conspiring against them. Elara could feel the weight of the darkness bearing down on her soul with every step. It wasn't just the fatigue of the long trek—it was the knowledge that something ancient and malevolent had marked her. The whispers had become more sporadic but sharper, like a predator watching from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Kirin led the way, his Luminara Staff glowing faintly, though its light seemed to wane with each passing hour. The ripple in the sky, which they believed marked the Sanctum's barrier, remained ever-distant, no matter how much ground they covered. The air was thin, cold, and biting, and even Jarek, with his iron will and seemingly endless stamina, was beginning to show signs of wear.
