For more than a week, Edward and the others guided the children through the Mourning Mountains.
The journey was slow and unforgiving. The mist clung to them day and night, the terrain proving to be treacherous and disorienting.
The children struggled the most, for they were tired, hungry, and weak from what they'd endured. Many had to be carried at times, and others supported as they stumbled step by step.
Magi, however, fared better. But even they showed faint signs of fatigue. Still, they pressed on for the children's sake. And at last, the mist began to thin.
The suffocating veil slowly gave way, revealing clear skies and distant horizons. The air felt lighter and easier to breathe.
They had finally made it out.
Ahead of them, the land sloped downward until it met the sea. The sound of waves crashing against the rocky cliffs echoed in their ears.
And there, docked near the cliffs…
A ship awaited them.
This was their way out.
