The mists in Deadwind Pass recede, flowing back down the river and swirling around the tower, layer upon layer blinding the senses and dampening all sound.
But a sound cuts clearly through the smothering air...two sounds...four sounds. A pair of footsteps, one the clink of mail upon stone, and a great disturbance, as if something had launched itself into the air.
Then a voice, one which sounds out of practice, like a child kept in the dark.
"Balance is restored. Now, to contact the flight."
As the mist head higher, to once again reveal the ruins of a town, nothing can be seen. Of the voice there is no trace, but the valley itself feels like it is being watched, or followed. Or judged.
Return.
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