The rugged terrain of the Highlands stretched before us, a landscape that seemed to breathe mystery and danger. Jagged cliffs loomed in the distance, their edges disappearing into dense fog that hung like a curtain, shrouding whatever lay beyond. The air was crisp but heavy, carrying an unspoken tension that pressed on my senses.
Karina adjusted her cloak against the chill, her eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced precision. "This fog isn't natural," she murmured. "There's magic in the air."
Helvar, ever the pragmatist, knelt to inspect the ground. "These tracks are fresh," he said, his fingers tracing faint indentations in the dirt. "Hoofprints. Large ones. Could be a drakon or something worse."
"Let's hope it's the former," I said, though my tone betrayed little optimism. I summoned a replica and sent it ahead to scout, its translucent form vanishing into the mist.
