The nightingale walks along the mountain path.
The path beneath her feet was barely shoulder-width, flanked by a massive stone wall and a sheer cliff face across the distance. The gap between them measured about ten feet (3.3 meters), with a bottomless ravine stretching between them. She clung to the rock face with caution, her heart racing as she feared slipping and plunging into the abyss.
Lifting her gaze, the sky revealed only a faintly glowing thread, like a silver ribbon suspended in the night. Yet she knew it was just past noon—though daylight, she still had to carry her torch, for the light filtering through the rock face was too dim to illuminate the path ahead. After walking for so long, she even began to feel as if she were walking through the heart of a mountain.
The only advantage here is that, despite the howling cold winds and heavy snowfall in the mountains, the gorges remain unaffected. Occasionally, a few snowflakes drift down from above, quickly melting into mist as they land on the cliffs or paths. The temperature here is strikingly different from the outside world, and at times, one can even see steam rising from the abyss beneath their feet.
Otherwise, she wouldn't have dared to venture alone into the Desolate Mountains under the Evil Demon's Moon. The mist could conceal her form, but it couldn't shield her from the cold. Had she walked through the biting wind, she would likely have frozen to death in the snow within an hour.
Yet the nightingale refused to linger here for a moment—she sensed something watching her in the darkness, sending shivers down her spine.
If possible, the Nightingale wishes to traverse the entire path through the mist, but unfortunately, her physical stamina does not permit such an endeavor. Prolonged exertion of her abilities would rapidly exhaust her.
The Nightingale raised her torch. The opposite cliff rose and fell in the flickering light, occasionally revealing black shadows of varying sizes on the opposite rock face. She knew these were caves—so deep that light couldn't penetrate, appearing as dark masses. At the same spot, the adjacent rock face had its own corresponding deep caverns.
This brought to mind the legends of the North Slope Mine. It was said to have been a den of underground monsters, with labyrinthine passages carved by the creatures themselves. The North Slope Mountain was merely a corner of the Desolate Mountains. Could these caves also have tunnels connecting to the mine?
The idea made her shudder.
West of the Desolate Mountains lies a wilderness untouched by human feet. To carve out countless holes in the towering mountain ranges stretching for hundreds of miles would likely require the help of monsters dwelling in such remote lands.
She couldn't bear to think further, so she focused her mind and kept moving forward.
At last, the road ahead took a turn. The shoulder-wide path split into two: one gently ascending, the other plunging downward into a deeper abyss, its end soon vanishing into darkness—no one knew where this road led. Standing at the fork, the sensation of being watched grew intense, as if countless eyes in the darkness were staring at her motionless. Her throat tightened, and her scalp tingled with unease.
The nightingale clenched its teeth, dispelled the mist, and strode upward. Soon, the strange sensation vanished.
As she ascended, the ambient temperature gradually dropped, and the silvery line overhead grew wider. After thirty minutes, a massive cavern appeared to her right, its lower rim slightly elevated above the road. She stepped into the cave, where faint glimmers of fire could be glimpsed in the depths.
This is the hiding place of the Co-Operation Association.
As Nightingale stepped out of the mist, she was immediately spotted by the Witch on guard. A black gaseous barrier appeared before her but vanished in an instant. A companion's excited cry echoed through the darkness: "You're back!" "Finally," she thought, but the sight of two white bandages wrapped around her companion's arms dampened her earlier excitement. "Two more sisters..." The voice paused briefly. "Uh... Ah, it's Aining and Aishi. They didn't survive adulthood five days ago." She forced a smile. "It happens often, doesn't it? Let's not dwell on that. Hurry to the camp—Wendy's been calling you for ages." Aining and Aishi, twin sisters raised in the affluent families of Zhui Long Ridge, had met their end in these remote mountains. Nightingale sometimes questioned her decision. Had she not taken them with her, they might have at least enjoyed a life of comfort before death, instead of enduring the constant wandering and homelessness that followed.
Yet when he thought of Wendy, a warm current surged through Nightingale's heart. Without her helping him, he might still be treated like a puppet, a disposable tool at anyone's disposal. Oh, and he should tell her this news sooner—let all the sisters know they no longer have to hide like mice. Someone has already accepted them, and... they might even safely make it through the annual Awakening Day!
As Nightingale entered the camp, she spotted a familiar figure crouching by the campfire, preparing food. Before the person arrived, she couldn't help but call out, "Wendy, I'm back." The figure paused, looked up, and flashed Nightingale's trademark smile. "Veronica, welcome home," she said. Wendy, an exceptionally kind woman and one of the Co-ops' founding members, was now in her thirties. Her face was smooth, her chestnut hair flowing down to her waist, and her features were mature and charming—making her seem like a big sister to anyone. She cared for every member of the Co-ops, offering support in daily life and emotional guidance whenever possible. Without Wendy, the Co-ops would never have been able to gather so many witches so quickly.
It was precisely because of her encounter that the Nightingale resolutely broke away from her family and embarked on the journey to find the Holy Mountain with her. She is also one of the few who knows her original name.
"How many times have I said this? I'm no longer that timid girl from the past," Nightingale said with a smile, shaking her head. "I'm now a powerful Witch, and Veronica is gone." "You're still you, even after breaking free from past nightmares," Wendy said softly. "Of course, you're welcome. Nightingale, I've been waiting for you all along. Thank you for your journey." "Well," Nightingale stepped forward and embraced her. "Thank you." After a long pause, Wendy asked, "What happened to that girl? Did you... fail to save her?" At this, Nightingale suddenly lit up. She grabbed Wendy's arm and exclaimed excitedly, "No, she didn't need me to save her. On the contrary, she saved all of us!" Then she recounted her experience in Border Town in detail. "The Lord there was Roland Wimbledon, the Fourth Prince of the Kingdom of Graycastle. He agreed to take us in. And he promised that one day, witches would live in his realm just like free citizens!"