The journey west was not so long. In fact, they didn't need to pass the main gate—Adrian led them to another gate that was more casual and built because of the waterway.
That side was more direct toward their destination, so they took the route and pressed further.
The terrain shifted subtly with every mile—grasslands slowly thinned, replaced by jagged cliffs and brittle rock outcroppings. Trees twisted, thinner here, gnarled by salt winds and time until, in the thick of the night, they finally reached the outskirts of the Outcoast region.
The first village they came upon was little more than a cluster of slanted wooden homes, many in disrepair. Crops were half-harvested. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, but the streets were quiet—eerily so. Children peeked from shuttered windows. Adults looked away when their eyes met Lucien's. It was a place gripped by fear.
Adrian adjusted his satchel.
"I thought the Federation was supporting them… this place looks abandoned."
