No overwhelming god-heart frenzy this time — just deep, possessive connection. Elizabeth's absence was felt, but we all knew she was holding things together back home.
By the end of the first week, the landscape had changed dramatically. The air grew colder, carrying the sharp bite of frost even in late summer. Snow-capped peaks loomed in the distance, and the forests became sparser, replaced by jagged rocks and icy streams.
It was on the eighth day that we encountered the first clear sign of the anomaly.
We had stopped at a small village nestled in a valley for resupply. The villagers were tense, their eyes darting nervously toward the northern pass. An old innkeeper pulled me aside while Lydia and Vale oversaw the loading of supplies.
