The air was crisp as the sun began its slow descent, casting a warm amber glow over the rugged terrain of Montis Askrath.
The towering mountain loomed before them, its peaks stretching into the sky, shrouded in wisps of silver mist.
The lower slopes were bathed in the rich hues of autumn, with crimson-leafed trees and golden shrubs dotting the rocky path.
The occasional burst of purple wildflowers peeked from between the cracks in the earth, defiant against the harsh landscape.
Malvoria stepped out of the magical carriage first, stretching her arms before rolling her shoulders back, feeling the muscles in her body loosen from the long ride.
The moment her boots touched the ground, the familiar scent of the mountain air filled her lungs—fresh, laced with the distant hint of rain. She had been here before, years ago, but the mountain had remained unchanged.
