Camelia moved, and the world shifted around her, a whisper of compliant earth and acquiescent air. The gentle incline she had envisioned formed beneath her feet, the soil firm and yielding.
Ahead, the low hill crest promised a wider view, an expanse of this new, unwritten reality. The air tasted clean, almost sharp, carrying the faint, fresh scent of newly turned earth and something wild, something profoundly untamed.
Atherion kept pace beside her, his presence a quiet anchor in the surreal landscape. His gaze, usually sharp and assessing, was now a mix of wonder and deep concern.
He watched the burgeoning world with an intensity that mirrored her own, every new tree, every emerging ripple in the land, noted and absorbed. His grip on her hand remained, a silent testament to their shared journey, a tether in the ever-changing terrain.
