Frost clings to the roots of ancient trees, and the air tastes of rain long fallen. Paths wind through forests that shift when unlooked at, and rivers murmur in tongues older than the stones they pass. In this land, magic does not announce itself — it waits, patient as winter, until the moment it chooses to rise. Those who travel here will find beauty and peril braided together, and the choices they make will echo far beyond the sound of their own footsteps.
The Scrollkeepers Archive
Chapter 6: The Floating Market
The first night on the river had shaken them all. The creature’s attack, the protective runes Nix had woven beneath the hull in those tense moments, the revelations about Ulfgar’s death and Lisera’s true nature, all of it had left the crew watchful and the brothers subdued.