Luneshale Pass which door do we open?

he blinked back at her but would find no crack in qiao’s composure. her features were set in stern formation, weathered as they were by time.

droplets flicked from the tips of his sorrel paws as he moved from the stream. qiao reached to pull her sigil stones aside.

your father sounds like an idiot. she informed him dismissively, eyes panning his strawberry-blonde features with a clinician’s dry measure. i can lead you to an antidote — but it will come at a cost.