The second day of flight brought them into the true northern territories. Jagged ridges of ice-crusted rock replaced the sparse forests, and the temperature plummeted to a bone-deep chill that seeped through layers of enchanted White Lion cold-weather gear.
Klaus led the formation with a stoic vigilance, occasionally glancing down at his palm. The mysterious rune that had appeared after Greed's disappearance had been throbbing since dawn, a steady pulse that intensified whenever he faced directly toward Northwatch. He flexed his fingers, trying to dispel the sensation, but it persisted—a silent warning he couldn't quite decipher.
By midday, they spotted an unusual formation in the distance—a massive spire of ice that rose from the frozen landscape like a sentinel. Its surface gleamed with unnatural colors despite the overcast sky, reflecting prismatic hues that shifted and swirled beneath its crystalline surface.
