The Search for the Elders

With their mission set, Zyra and Damen prepared to leave Valtor behind. Their path was fraught with uncertainty—if the Elders were still alive, they were hidden for a reason. Finding them would be no easy task.

Kael met them at the city gates. "Are you sure about this?"

"No," Zyra admitted. "But we don't have a choice."

Damen mounted his steed. "Keep the city safe, Kael. We'll return as soon as we can."

Kael gave a firm nod. "May the gods be with you."

And with that, they rode off, disappearing into the horizon, toward the unknown.

The battle for survival had begun.

Their journey took them through treacherous landscapes—dense forests where the trees whispered secrets, vast deserts where illusions danced on the horizon, and icy peaks where the wind howled with sorrow.

Each night, Zyra studied the ancient map, tracing its faded ink with careful fingers. The last known location of the Elders was deep within the Ashen Highlands, but no one who had traveled there had ever returned.

Damen kept watch, his blade never far from his grasp. "Something's following us."

Zyra's eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"

"The silence. It's too perfect."

The night stretched on, but neither of them slept. As dawn broke, they pressed forward, their path growing ever more perilous. The answers they sought lay ahead—but so did the darkness that hunted them.

The search for the Elders had begun, but what they would find—if anything—remained a mystery.