The vastness of the Farim Mountains unfolded before them like an endless, jagged maze. The peaks stretched high into the sky, their silhouettes cast against a night thick with stars, while deep valleys twisted below, shrouded in shadow and silence. Every so often, the moon would dip behind a ridge, plunging them into momentary darkness, only for the faint glimmer of starlight to return, revealing yet another slope or rock-strewn path. They pressed onward, guided solely by the dim, flickering light of the compass Nahra had given Malin, its needle pointing the way through the unknown.

They had finally shaken the ghoulish beings that had haunted their steps for days. The relief was palpable, but a new, heavier tension had settled over them. There was something unnerving about being another group to venture so deep into these mountains—an ominous sense that they were crossing into a land that didn’t welcome them. Each footfall seemed to echo, reminding them just how alone they truly were in this ancient, untouched wilderness.

Malin glanced down at the compass, squinting in the moonlight as he traced their route. He muttered to himself, “If I’m reading this right, we’re still on course… just need to keep following this ridge until it dips.” His voice was more for his own comfort than anything else, a way to drown out the eerie silence that had taken over since they’d lost their pursuers.

Maya, ever perceptive, picked up on the tension in his tone. “Don’t sound too confident there, Baker Boy,” she teased, though her smile was softer than usual. “You’re acting like you’ve got all this navigation down to a science.”

He laughed, but it came out more nervous than he’d intended. “Well, if baking and navigation were the same thing, I’d be the best guide in the kingdom. But unfortunately…” He trailed off, glancing again at the compass, willing it to continue pointing true.

“Just keep us on course,” Abel said, his tone steady but his eyes scanning the dark terrain around them. “Nobody’s survived past these mountains, you know. They say it’s cursed, or haunted.” He tried to keep his voice light, but even he couldn’t hide the edge of unease in his words.

“Oh, thanks for the encouragement, Abel,” Malin replied dryly. “Exactly what I needed to hear right now.”

Maya chuckled softly, though there was a nervousness in her own laugh. “Well, maybe it’s haunted. But who’s to say we’re not scarier than whatever ghosts or curses might be lurking here?”

“Speak for yourself, Maya,” Malin muttered, feigning bravado. “I might have taken on those ghoulish creatures, but I’m still very much mortal. Not exactly looking forward to meeting any ghosts.”

Abel shot him a glance. “Mortals or not, we’re here for a reason. Just keep your focus, Malin. This is where things get serious.”

Maya glanced between the two, sensing the shift in their mood. She was often the one to break the tension, to find a light in dark places, but even she felt the weight of where they were. No one had returned from this place. The sheer vastness of the mountains seemed to press down on them, as though warning them to turn back while they still could.

“Alright, so we’re scared,” she admitted, breaking the silence that had fallen again. “But let’s be real. Who else is crazy enough to do this? We’re either brave or completely mad.”

“Probably both,” Malin replied with a grin, though his voice quivered ever so slightly. “But hey, Nahra’s waiting, and I’m not about to leave her to marry that pompous snake Aza.”

Abel smirked, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe the lengths you’re willing to go just for one person. She’d better be worth it, Baker Boy.”

“She is,” Malin replied without hesitation, his face firm in the dim moonlight. “More than you could imagine.”

There was a pause as they climbed over a large rock, and then Abel spoke again, softer this time. “I admire it, you know. The way you won’t give up on her. Takes a different kind of strength.”

Malin looked at him, surprised by the admission. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” Abel replied, looking straight ahead. “But remember, there’s a fine line between strength and foolishness.”

Maya sighed dramatically, breaking the moment with a playful grin. “Oh, will you two stop with the serious talk? We’re on a grand adventure here, destined for the annals of history! Let’s at least pretend we’re enjoying ourselves.”

Malin laughed, grateful for her levity. “You’re right, you’re right. Who gets the chance to climb cursed mountains with such distinguished company?”

Abel rolled his eyes. “Distinguished? Maybe Maya fits that description, but I’d say we’re all a bit too rough around the edges for that.”

Maya stuck her tongue out at him. “Speak for yourself, Abel. I’m perfectly refined.”

The three of them laughed, the sound echoing off the mountainside. For a moment, it was easy to forget the danger, to ignore the foreboding presence of the mountains that loomed over them. They were just three companions, bound by a shared goal and an unlikely friendship.

But as the laughter faded, the silence returned, heavier than before. The weight of the mountains pressed in around them, as if the very earth was warning them to turn back. Shadows moved in the moonlight, and every rock and crevice seemed to hold secrets of ancient battles and lost travelers who had dared to cross these ridges.

“Let’s not lose focus,” Abel reminded, more to himself than anyone. “We’re not out of danger yet.”

Malin nodded, tightening his grip on the reins. His eyes returned to the compass, the needle unwaveringly pointing the way, but in the back of his mind, a question lingered: Would it truly lead them to safety, or was it guiding them deeper into peril?

Hours passed as they navigated the winding trails, their lizards picking their way over rocks and around cliffs. The mountains seemed to stretch on endlessly, each ridge and valley merging into the next. The realization that no one had survived this path weighed heavily on all of them, yet they pressed on, the unspoken determination binding them.

At one point, Malin glanced back, seeing the ghostly outlines of the paths they had already crossed, barely visible in the starlight. “You know,” he murmured, “this would make a great story if we live to tell it.”

Maya chuckled softly, though there was a trace of nerves in her voice. “Just think about the grand tales we can spin over a warm fire, with people hanging on our every word, thinking we’re insane.”

“Oh, they’d be right,” Abel muttered, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “But I’ll settle for surviving this first.”

Another hour passed, the three of them mostly silent, occasionally breaking the stillness with small talk to keep their spirits up. Malin found himself wondering what Nahra was doing at that very moment, whether she was safe and thinking of him. That thought alone gave him strength, the desire to see her again pushing him onward even as fatigue began to weigh on him.

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Finally, as the first faint light of dawn hinted at the horizon, Malin caught a glimpse of a ridge up ahead, just as the compass had promised. He pointed it out to Maya and Abel, a surge of relief washing over him.

“There it is,” he said, his voice filled with exhaustion but also pride. “We made it to the ridge.”

Maya let out a whoop of joy. “See, Baker Boy? I knew you had it in you.”

Abel gave him a nod, a rare smile breaking his usual stoic expression. “Not bad. Let’s rest a moment and prepare for what lies beyond.”

They reached the ridge and halted, taking in the vast view that lay before them. The mountains continued to stretch endlessly, but there was a sense of accomplishment in having come this far. For now, they had a brief reprieve, a moment to breathe.

But as they stood there, gazing out over the vast, unforgiving landscape that awaited them, they all knew this was just the beginning. The real challenge lay ahead, deeper into the heart of these mountains where no man had ever returned. The weight of that knowledge settled over them, but so did a sense of resolve.

They were in this together, and whatever awaited them beyond the next ridge, they would face it as one.

The first rays of sunlight began to pierce through the towering peaks of the Farim Mountains, casting long shadows across the rocky terrain. As the light crept down the mountain slopes, it brought with it a slight warmth, a reminder of the sun’s daily cycle even in this desolate, foreboding place. The trio of travelers, Malin, Abel, and Maya, continued their trek, their lizards pacing carefully as they entered a series of narrow caves and tunnels that twisted through the mountains.

Malin, guiding his lizard as it cautiously maneuvered over jagged stones, broke the silence. “So, Abel, this dragon we keep hearing about… do you know anything else about it? I mean, besides that it’s big and terrifying?”

Abel adjusted his hold on the reins, glancing ahead as if trying to focus on their path while he spoke. “Not much is known. People don’t live to tell tales of it, so stories are scarce. But the few accounts we have come from people far enough to see it from a distance—massive wings, a thunderous roar that shakes the air. They say it can be heard echoing through these mountains, especially at dawn or dusk.”

As they advanced through the winding caves, Maya shuddered slightly. The fear was visible in her tense grip on her lizard’s reins, her gaze flickering nervously toward the shadows in the tunnel. She kept her voice steady, though. “So… we’re not planning on coming face-to-face with it, right?”

Abel shot her a reassuring look. “No, we’re not. I’ll protect you, Maya.” His voice held a confidence that, though calming, still carried a hint of the unknown dangers ahead.

Malin turned to Abel with a grin, feigning offense. “What about me? Am I getting that same knightly protection, or am I on my own?”

Abel let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, you too, Baker Boy,” he said, the words laced with reluctance. “I suppose you’ve won that right, seeing as you’ve got my blessing to marry Nahra. She’d probably cry if anything happened to you, and I’d hate to be the one responsible for that.”

Malin smirked. “How touching. Here I thought you’d enjoy seeing me squirm a bit.”

“Trust me, I’m not here to save you from every little thing,” Abel replied with a wry grin. “But if it means keeping Nahra happy, I’ll make sure you make it out of here alive… as much as it pains me.”

The banter lifted their spirits, if only slightly, but it was clear that even the lightheartedness couldn’t fully dispel the weight of the journey ahead. They continued through the caves, the rocky walls narrowing and expanding in intervals, the path dimly lit by small pockets of sunlight that seeped through cracks in the stone.

The lizards, too, sensed the tension in the air. They moved slower, their bodies occasionally stiffening as if picking up on some unseen threat. Malin reached down to pat his mount’s neck, speaking softly. “Easy there, Yellow. We’re all in this together.”

Maya, noticing her own lizard’s nervous pacing, murmured soothing words, trying to calm the beast. “It’s alright. Just a little longer through these tunnels, then you’ll be out in the sunlight again.”

Abel glanced back, watching the two comfort their mounts. His own lizard seemed skittish, its eyes darting toward the shadows along the cave walls. “Even the animals know there’s something here,” he muttered, almost to himself.

As they continued navigating the twisting path, Malin broke the silence again, his tone a mixture of curiosity and worry. “You know, we haven’t seen or heard any sign of this dragon yet. Do you think it only comes out at certain times?”

Abel considered the question for a moment. “The sightings usually happen at dawn or dusk. That’s when people have reported seeing it… if they survive long enough to tell anyone, that is.” He paused, glancing around the tunnel walls as if half-expecting the beast to appear at any moment. “I suspect it sleeps most of the time, but it’s unpredictable. Some say it’s been spotted in broad daylight, and others swear it comes out at night.”

Maya’s gaze hardened with determination. “Then taking the tunnels was the right choice. Staying out of sight will give us the best chance of avoiding it.”

Malin held up the torn map, scanning what remained of the routes Nahra had marked for him. “We’re doing well for now, but…” He sighed, looking at the path ahead. “Eventually, we’re going to have to leave the tunnels. There’s a point where we’ll need to cross to the top of the mountain, out in the open.”

Abel’s jaw tightened. “Then we’ll just have to pray that the dragon doesn’t choose that exact moment to show up.”

They fell silent, the weight of that realization settling heavily over them. The mountains were vast, their paths winding and unpredictable, and the looming presence of the dragon hung over them like an unseen specter. It was an uncomfortable thought—venturing out onto open ground, fully exposed, with nothing to protect them from the creature’s wrath.

As they continued, the tunnels began to narrow, forcing them to ride single file. The stone walls were rough, and the path twisted and turned, making it difficult to see what lay ahead. The tension in the air grew thicker with each passing moment, the silence pressing down on them as they navigated the rocky terrain.

Malin spoke up again, his voice a low murmur. “So… if we do see this dragon, what’s the plan? Run and hope it doesn’t follow?”

Abel chuckled dryly. “More or less. If it comes down to it, we’ll have to use whatever terrain we can to our advantage. Dragons are powerful, but they’re not invincible. There might be a way to outsmart it… or at the very least, distract it.”

Maya looked at Abel with a hint of admiration. “Sounds like you’ve thought this through.”

Abel shrugged. “I’ve heard enough stories to know that fighting a dragon isn’t a good option. We don’t have the firepower or the numbers to take on something like that. Best we can do is stay out of its way.”

Malin tried to keep his tone light, though his nerves were evident. “Well, let’s just hope it’s having a nice long nap while we’re here.”

The hours passed as they wound through the caves, and the dim light of morning began to filter through the cracks in the rock. The occasional shaft of sunlight pierced the darkness, casting eerie shadows across the path ahead. They could feel the air growing colder as they ascended, the high altitude bringing a chill that contrasted with the blistering heat of the desert they’d left behind.

Finally, as they reached a small clearing within the cave, Malin pulled the map out again, studying the torn edges and trying to gauge their location. He glanced at the compass, aligning it with the remaining paths Nahra had marked. “If we keep following this tunnel, it should lead us to the spot where we’ll have to go up to the surface.”

Abel nodded, his expression serious. “Then let’s not waste any time. The sooner we get past this area, the sooner we can get to safer ground.”

Maya looked between the two, her face resolute. “We’ve come this far. There’s no turning back now.”

They shared a moment of silent agreement, each of them steeling themselves for what lay ahead. They knew that the dragon was a real, looming threat, but they also knew they had no choice but to press on. With the weight of Nahra’s mission resting on Malin’s shoulders, and the unbreakable bond that had formed between them, they couldn’t afford to falter.

As they continued their journey through the mountains, the spectre of the dragon hung over them, but so did a renewed sense of purpose. They would face whatever challenges lay ahead together, relying on each other’s strength and courage to navigate the treacherous path.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, and though they remained in the shadows of the caves, they knew the inevitable moment was approaching. They would have to face the open air, to step out onto the exposed mountainside and face whatever awaited them.

And as they pressed on, Malin couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, they would make it through this ordeal. Perhaps the mountains would grant them passage, and he would see Nahra again, victorious and ready to claim the future they both dreamed of.

But for now, all they could do was keep moving, keep hoping, and keep each other safe as they ventured ever deeper into the heart of the Farim Mountains.