The gates of Hollow Mountain yawned open like tired jaws as Celeste and Hunter awoke the following morning. The scent of pine and stone filled their lungs, but beneath it lay the unmistakable odor of tension, thick as fog.

They hadn’t even made it through breakfast before piles of parchment were thrust into their arms. A cold wave of bureaucracy crashed down on them,vreports, patrol logs, expense sheets, and urgent requests scribbled in frantic handwriting. The sanctuary of their brief ...