The night deepened. The rugged road snaked out from underfoot, leaving the silent tranquility of the wilderness farther and farther behind.
The air grew dry, a mixture of dust and the distinct scent of cooking smoke carried on the wind from a distant human settlement.
The terrain began to rise and fall. Massive, menacing gray-black rocks, like the skeletons of slumbering behemoths, rose up in ever-increasing numbers within their field of view.
After rounding another hill scarred by wind erosion, Holland, who was walking in the lead, suddenly stopped.
He raised a rough hand and pointed north.
Against the vast night and the sparse starlight, a huge, crude shadow crouched on the distant horizon, nestled in a pass of the Gray Rock Mountain Range.
It was not a natural mountain silhouette but a fortress city, formed from countless giant stone structures—some orderly, some crooked—all stacked and crammed together.
