Quinlan emerged from the portal in a rush of cold air.
Snow crunched under his boots.
The world around him settled into focus. These were Silverwind's outskirts, in the western ranges of the Iskaris Continent, where the Fujimori clan had ruled over their duchy.
Pines lined the slopes in dense rows. Their needles were dusted white, bending under the weight of the last snowfall. Long sheets of untouched snow stretched across hills, glimmering under the morning sun. A mist drifted low to the ground, twirling between tree trunks akin to lazy ghosts.
The air tasted clean. Cold enough to sting the lungs. Calm enough that even breaths felt louder than usual.
This was pure winter scenery in its greatest beauty, highlighted by the early hours, in a place largely untouched by humanity.
Quinlan let the sight settle in, feeling his heart stir with faint emotions.
This was a rare moment of quiet, letting his mind wander for a moment.
