C71 The Threaded Well

The next morning brought fog.

It clung to the trees and seeped through the roots, muting every color until even the fire’s banner looked like smoke. Still, they moved forward—Ember leading, Aster humming beneath her breath, Fen marking each bend in the path with small sketches of leaves and stone.

Elin walked behind them, watching for shapes that did not belong to mist.

By midday