The next morning came with a sharp chill in the air.
Elandra stirred slowly beneath the gray dawn, clouds hanging low over the rooftops like a heavy blanket. Inigo stood by the outer gates of the Guild, checking the straps on his gear. His longcoat was cinched tight, weapons holstered, and a fresh utility belt hung at his side. He wasn't nervous. Not exactly. But there was something about a rift appearing this close to home that unsettled him more than Hollowmere ever did.
Lyra joined him shortly after, tightening her bowstring while chewing on a bit of dried jerky.
"You ready?" she asked, eyes flicking briefly to the west where the cliffs waited.
"As I'll ever be." He gave a glance toward the Guild. "They're coming."
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Arienne arrived, coat buttoned up and eyes sharp. No trace of fatigue remained from the night before. She adjusted the strap on her satchel and gave a curt nod.
