Returning to these mountains feels like walking through a graveyard of missed opportunities. The aura here is thin—fragile, like old parchment—and the people are even more delicate. They squabble over scraps of influence while the wind carries the scent of old blood. I am stronger now than the shadows that once took this place, but strength is a heavy burden when there is no one left to protect.
Is anyone else finding it difficult to reconcile who they were with who they have become?