Signs of the Storm

As Arc and Anaxi descended from the outcrop, the wind picked up, carrying with it the tang of ozone and the faint, bitter scent of scorched earth. Anaxi’s demeanor shifted again, this time embodying a steady, grounding presence. Their movements became deliberate, each step placed with care.

“We’re close,” Anaxi said, their voice carrying the weight of certainty.

Arc looked back to the horizon. The faint lights of the village flickered in the distance, dwarfed by the approaching storm. “Do you think they’ll be ready?”

Anaxi smiled faintly, their expression almost human. “They’ll have to be. The balance doesn’t wait for readiness.”

With that, they pressed onward, the storm at their backs and the faint glow of Skyline’s guidance ahead.