A few days later, they finally reached the border that split the northern region from the east. The air was crisper here, heavy with the scent of earth and faint traces of old qi that clung to the terrain.
Wooyun stood at the edge of a cliff for a brief reprieve as he looked down at the path that would eventually take them to Han Seo-yoon's old home—or at least back to where it all started.
The wind tugged at his robes, and he let it. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and breathed it all in—the scent of pine and wet stone.
"It's strange," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "No matter how far you run, you always circle back to where you started."
And with that, they continued.
