T
hey had crossed lands forgotten by time and outlasted storms that seemed summoned only to turn them back. The path had demanded more than strength—it had stripped them down to silence, to patience, to grit. And still, they did not turn away. Then, one morning, the mist thinned—and no words could capture what lay before them. It was no kingdom from legend, nor a fortress carved by ambition, but a vale, where magic lingered, hidden beyond the hills. They had crossed no threshold, spoken no spell—only wandered, until the world forgot how to be ordinary. It was not the journey’s end, nor even the reward. But for a fleeting moment, it was enough.
