Larksong Grotto my pride

faust exhaled, the weight of disappointment sinking into his bones. he had hoped for something here, anything, but skorpa’s rejection was final.
no allies. no reinforcements. only war.
his gaze flickered to blackfell, silent understanding passing between them. there was no use staying. not now. he had one more road left to walk before the sun rose, before darukaal stood alone against the saatsine.
without another word, he turned, stepping away from the ridge, away from skorpa’s sneering presence. the plains stretched before him, vast and empty, but perhaps—perhaps iskava would be more rewarding.