Kael
The one who hired us used a partial name: Serik, or something close. He warned that the Ashen Eye punishes anyone who opens what it sealed.
The last light drains from the collapsed waystone, leaving the road blue beneath the redwoods. Kael’s damaged heel stays turned toward the lodge, ready to retreat.
Mira
Do not trust that name too quickly. He may have given us a fragment because he expected us to repeat it.
Mira watches the neglected hunting path instead of you. Her shoulders tighten at a faint crackle among the needles, though no figure emerges from the deepening shadow.
Kael
Our payment came through a sealed purse, no crest, no meeting face to face. But the warning was clear: the Ashen Eye is not merely hiding a route. It is protecting whoever uses it.
Mira
Someone is listening, or trying to make us think they are. Ask what you want, Umbralia, but decide quickly whether proof means our trail, our purse, or the person behind the warning.