Crossroads of the Highlands

The air in the Highlands was a crisp, invigorating draught, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Maverick Smith Bernard, still reeling from the whirlwind of recent events, found himself amidst a panorama of rolling hills and ancient stone. He’d expected, after the dizzying revelations at the shore, a period of quiet contemplation, perhaps some guided practice with Merrick Lee Franklin. Instead, he was here, on the fringes of a landscape that felt both profoundly familiar and utterly alien, with two other faces he barely knew.

Chloe Xavier stood a few feet away, her gaze sharp and analytical as she scanned the rugged terrain. Her dark hair, usually held in a neat ponytail, was coming loose, strands whipping around her face in the strengthening breeze. Maverick couldn’t shake the feeling that she saw more than just trees and rocks; she seemed to be reading the very atmosphere. Merrick, ever the serene anchor, stood between them, a faint smile playing on her lips as she observed their unspoken tension.

"The Highlands," Merrick announced, her voice a low, resonant hum that seemed to blend with the wind. "A place steeped in the deep roots of our state. And a fitting place for you two to truly begin."