Chapter 42: The Path of the Mage XV
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On the seventh day, they entered a rocky highland. Sharp wind cut across the terrain, carrying the faint smell of pine trees and distant rain. The path became steep and winding, climbing toward the shadow of a mountain ridge.
Fizz floated ahead, wings buzzing in excitement. "I can feel it. Something is humming in the air. We are close, Master Forgetful. Very close."
John felt it too. The faint pulse in his chest, the pull of mana, guiding him like an unseen compass.
They paused on a ledge as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the jagged stone. Below, a ravine cut deep into the earth, and beyond it rose the dark silhouette of their destination. It was a cluster of craggy hills and twisted trees that looked like the skeleton of a long-dead beast.
Fizz hovered beside him, unusually quiet for a moment. "You feel that, right?"
"Yes."
"It is strong. Stronger than the other particles. This one might fight back. Or maybe a bigger ugly thing will guard it. Either way, I am ready to look heroic again."
John adjusted his pack, feeling the weight of the revolver against his side. "Then let us finish this."
They descended carefully, the path winding along the ridge. The wind howled through the stones, carrying the distant cry of some unseen bird of prey. Shadows stretched long and sharp as evening approached.