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TRAILS END.

Under the pale shimmer of the Milky Way, five travelers settled into the steaming embrace of the mountain spa, a ritual they had come to treasure after long days on the trail. Eira, the eldest among them, had chosen this hidden lodge for one reason: silence. Not the lonely kind, but the kind shared between friends who have survived storms together. Tonight, that silence was well earned. Their day had begun before sunrise, climbing through the pine-lined ridges in search of the ancient waystone rumored to lie somewhere beyond the Silver Pass. What they found instead was a sudden storm rolling over the peaks, forcing them into a scramble to secure their gear, their footing, and, at one point, each other. By the time they reached shelter, soaked to the bone and laughing at how ridiculous they all looked, they knew they’d pushed themselves harder than planned. So, when the storm finally cleared and the innkeeper offered them the private outdoor spring; hot, quiet, lantern-lit, they didn’t hesitate. Now they rested shoulder to shoulder in the mineral water, warmed through after a day of cold wind and near-slips. The night air smelled of cedar and distant rain. Lanterns flickered along the wooden beams, and the steam curled around them like a soft quilt. Marin retold the moment she nearly slid down the trail and had to be caught by two others at once. Elayne gently teased her. Nira, usually reserved, admitted she’d been scared too, and the group nudged closer in wordless reassurance. Laughter drifted upward and dissolved into the stars. No quests. No storms. No responsibilities. Just five friends beneath a sky too beautiful for worry, letting the heat undo the day’s trials. And when the night deepened and the forest quieted, they simply breathed together; grateful, calm, and exactly where they wanted to be.