On the next day...
Mist clung low over the ground like a silken veil, weaving through gnarled roots and ghostly blossoms. The air was heavy with mana—thick, ancient, alive.
They stood at the edge of the hollow, beneath the outstretched boughs of crooked willows.
A strange quiet blanketed the area.
No birds.
No breeze.
Only the slow hum of blooming flowers glowing faintly silver under the sunlight.
Collin led the group, his gaze sharp as he stepped lightly over the undergrowth. Behind him followed Gilgamel, Simon, and Dodo—each alert, their movements quiet.
"This is it," Collin said, stopping near a moss-covered boulder.
Gilgamel tilted his head, "You're sure the Lightbloom Dew is here?"
Collin nodded and unfurled a faded sheet of parchment, revealing a painting of the surrounding terrain. At the center, near a twisted tree, was a marked spot pulsing faintly with silver ink.
