They had been walking for over an hour.
Elysia knew this because her legs had started keeping time better than any magical pocket watch.
Every step was a metronome of discomfort, every breath a quiet curse lodged behind her teeth. The morning sun had risen cheerfully above the mountains, painting the forest trail in golden light and birdsong.
And none of it mattered.
Because she was tired.
The kind of tired that seeped into the bones, soft and insistent, like a wave tugging her down into the earth with each step.
And she hadn't realized—had truly, utterly forgotten just how long the hike had been to the top.
How winding and steep the trail had become. The little detours. The uneven ground. The rocks that looked innocent until you tripped over them.
It hadn't felt like much on the way up. Probably because her adrenaline had been high, the fresh air exhilarating.
