Far beyond the northern territories…Beyond the lands ruled by wolves and kings…Beyond even the reach of ordinary powerThere existed a place the world had long since learned to fear.The StormwalkersHidden deep within jagged mountains where the wind never rested and the skies were never still, it was a place untouched by time. A place where magic did not whisperIt roared.Inside one of its oldest chambers, dimly lit by dying flames and scattered candles, the air was thick with the scent of herbs, ash, and something older.Something different Clay pots lined the walls, filled with crushed leaves, bones, and powders that shimmered faintly in the dark. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, casting long, twisted shadows that danced with every flicker of light.At the center of the room…An old woman sat.Her gray hair fell loosely around her shoulders, her frail fingers moving slowly as she stroked the feathers of a black owl perched calmly in her lap.Her breathing was slow.
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