Kaelith crested the final hill and froze, Lyra, and Feylin hurrying behind. Mist, a field of mist lie in front of Kaelith. ‘So this is it,’Kaelith thought, this is how I die. A hoard of wordlings behind and mist ahead.
Feylin charged onward anyway heedless of the mist only seeing the protection of the neverglade beyond. The mist came alive, a figure forming from the thick fog. Mist, then a w...