The Village Beneath the Fog

The dirt road stretched endlessly under the cold moonlight.

There were no city lights here, no grand buildings or bustling streets—just the whisper of the wind.

Six months.

It had been six months since they had set out on their journey across the kingdom.

In that time, they had seen opulent cities and their cutthroat politics, dark alleys where life was worth less than a coin, and villages where time seemed frozen.

Ed adjusted his mask as they walked, his gloved fingers tracing the smooth surface.

Beneath it, his disguised elven features felt foreign but necessary.

'Cities were different.' He thought to himself. 'Humans lived there as equals. But the villages... The deeper we go, the worse it gets.'

Zareth, walking slightly ahead, seemed as unreadable as ever.

Even after all this time, his expressions remained carefully restrained—watchful.

Vynesaa, on the other hand, exhaled in mild irritation.