Old mapmakers called the region “Nalvas’s Teeth” because travelers who entered those mist-choked passes never returned the same. They came back with silver threads in their hair and a strange, quiet hunger in their eyes. When asked what they had seen, they would only say: “It showed me the door I never knew I closed.”
And then the mist unraveled.
Three days she walked. On the third night, the mist parted. nalvas