Elysia had no idea where they were going.
Malvoria hadn't given her a single clue beyond the infuriatingly vague, "You'll see." But despite herself and despite how much she loathed being left in suspense she felt something giddy and light in her chest.
Maybe it was the fresh mountain air. Maybe it was the way her muscles still felt warm and pleasantly sore from yesterday's hike.
Or maybe it was the memory of Malvoria's laugh—low, genuine, rare—that kept replaying in her head like an echo she didn't want to lose.
She had taken her time getting ready that morning, choosing something different: a sleek black travel suit, not bulky but snug enough to move in, the kind with reinforced boots and thick but breathable fabric that hugged her figure.
She'd pulled her hair back into a tight braid that swung between her shoulder blades, and even added a small utility belt, just in case. No tunics today. This was an adventure, and she wanted to look—and feel—the part.
