The air in the Dragon's Spine Mountains lacked the gentle magic of Silverwood. Here, the wind was a blade made of ice, slicing skin and freezing breath in the lungs. Three figures walked along a narrow goat trail, surrounded by towering granite peaks reaching into the grey sky, jagged like the spine of some long-dead prehistoric beast.
Nihil led. His new grey Elven cloak flapped violently in the strong wind, but his stride was steady. His new body—the result of Rank A Void Reconstruction—did not feel the cold. He did not shiver. His muscles did not stiffen. He operated with machine-like efficiency in an environment that would kill an ordinary human within hours. His white hair blended with the falling snow, only his red eyes providing a point of contrast in the monochrome landscape.
