Where the Mist Meets the Mountain

Previously

…The mist, which had always felt like a shroud, now felt like a gentle embrace. It whispered secrets, not of greed, but of remembrance. My father’s quest wasn’t over. It had simply changed hands. And I, Caleb Stone, no longer just a man running from his grief, but a son finally understanding his father’s legacy, knew what I had to do. The mountain’s secrets would remain its own. And I would be their keeper.