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Skyscale Mountain.
The mountain wind swept away the clouds above, revealing rolling tides of mist cascading over peaks within peaks.
Wisps of fog drifted like silk across a solitary gravestone on the cold, lonely mountain, brushing past both the tomb and the youth kneeling before it.
He looked no more than sixteen, an age of proud horses and fine clothes, of reckless confidence and unbridled ambition.
But the grave had stood there for over 50 years.
He said nothing.
The one buried here, when they’d first met, had still been a simple, wide-eyed girl, naive, easy to trick, and soft-hearted.
“In the blink of an eye, you’ve become someone’s revered founder. Amazing. Not like me. That whole Bladeseekers thing I dreamed up...who knows where it’s gone. You win. I concede.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips. He almost laughed, almost…but the weight in his eyes pressed the smile down.
He shut his eyes and let out a quiet breath,...
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