The convoy emerged from the dense pine forest into a broad, windswept pass between two sheer cliffs of black granite. The change was abrupt, startling—one moment we were enclosed by trees, their dark branches blocking the sky; the next, we were exposed, the vast grey vault of heaven stretching above us, the wind cutting across the open space with nothing to break its force.
At the far end of the pass, spanning the gap between the cliffs like a doorway carved by giants, stood the Runestone Gate.
My heart stopped.
