A shadow of uncertainty skimmed Vermilion Demon Lord's face, yet resolve blazed behind his eyes. "I thank you, Mr. Cloudridge. Even if hope Is a single thread, I will walk through blades and fire to seize it!"
Jared looked up, fingers tapping the arm of his chair. "Mr. Cloudridge, do we know any landmarks that point to this pool? And when is the next blossoming expected?"
Linden closed his eyes, drifting through centuries of scroll dust.
"The old texts are vague," he said at last, "But they speak of a place ringed by three titanic ice peaks arranged like the corners of a glyph."
He counted backward in silence, lips barely moving. "Last recorded bloom, two hundred eighty years ago. By the hundred-year cycle, the next awakening comes within the next twenty years... Could be this winter...Or the winter after the next dozen."
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