The morning after the battle was filled with a strange, quiet tension. The village that had been their temporary refuge was now in a state of cautious recovery. As the villagers worked to repair the damage, there was an undercurrent of fear in their movements. They knew that the threat wasn't over, and that knowledge weighed heavily on everyone.
Elara, standing at the edge of the village, watched as Morgana and Aric pored over a large, ancient map spread out on a wooden table. The map detailed the surrounding lands, the winding paths through the swamp, and the distant mountains that loomed on the horizon. Morgana traced a finger along one of the paths, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"There's something about these mountains," Morgana murmured, almost to herself. "They're mentioned in several of the old texts, but always in a way that's vague, like they're trying to hide something."
