The cold bit into Elara and Morgana as they trekked deeper into the Aetherian Mountains, the snow-covered path growing steeper and more treacherous with every step. The once-gentle flurries had turned into a relentless storm, the wind howling like the spirits of the ancient dead. The icy air stung Elara's face, and each breath felt sharp in her lungs.
"We're getting closer," Morgana said, her voice barely audible above the howling wind. She clutched her staff tightly, her enchanted cloak offering some protection from the elements but doing little to hide the exhaustion in her movements.
Elara glanced up, squinting against the snowfall. The towering peaks loomed ahead, jagged and menacing. The path to the Archive had been long and arduous, but they couldn't afford to slow down. Time was running out, and every moment brought them closer to the answers they desperately needed.
