Highlands Mist

The thick fog of the Scottish Highlands presses against the ancient stones of the MacKay castle, a stark contrast to the warmth and comfort of the bedroom that has become yours and Wesley's temporary haven.
From the window, you can just make out the figures of Soryn and the young Faye boy, Arran, in the garden below, their conversation a low murmur lost to the wind. The news Arran brought from the destroyed city of Wyeona hangs heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the war that has followed you across the ocean.
You turn from the window, the weight of the world settling onto your shoulders. Your father's necklace, a constant comfort and shield, feels warm against your skin. The castle, though steeped in history and ancient magic, is also alive with the restless energy of spirits, a constant hum beneath the surface of reality that leaves you perpetually weary.