Where the Mist Meets the Mountain

Previously

…The cavern felt different now. The ancient power was still there, a low hum beneath my feet, but it was no longer a lure, no longer a promise of something I could grasp. It was a responsibility. A sacred trust. My father’s final testament. The mist outside, I knew, was waiting. And for the first time since my family died, the thought of it didn't fill me with dread, but with a strange, unexpected sense of peace. I looked at Thorne, at the ancient shrine, and I knew what I had to do. The treasure wasn't gold. It was silence. It was acceptance. And it was mine to keep.