With Miaomiao perched on his shoulder, Michael slowly lifted his head as he sat atop Marcus's broad back.
His gaze fell upon the deep valleys of the Argo mountain range, where frigid winds howled relentlessly.
Before the sun fully disappeared, snow-capped peaks blended seamlessly with a darkening sky, creating a deep, bluish veil. The ridges looked as though carved by ancient dragons, and the frozen gorge seemed to exist beyond the reach of seasons.
The mountains slumbered like giants, hiding countless secrets beneath their ancient depths, along with an age-old temple.
Miaomiao, resting comfortably on Michael's shoulder, yawned softly.
[Miao… shouldn't we finish things up now?]
Michael gently stroked Miaomiao's head, nodding slowly in agreement. The mountain wind was biting and fierce, cold enough to numb the tip of his nose. His cloak flapped briskly in the breeze, carrying whispers of forgotten names and echoes of the distant past.
Michael narrowed his eyes slightly.
