Isiah clutched the copy he had drawn from the map glimpsed inside the confiscated ring tech. The paper was a vital fragment of their journey now, a tangible link to Triavert. Its dark, intricate lines and cryptic markings mirrored the mysterious nature of their quest.
Eijar noticed the map in Isiah's hands. Without words, she recognized its significance and the weight of their mission.
She climbed onto Isiah's shoulders, her sinuous form coiling lightly around him while her emerald eyes fixed on the details. From this vantage point, she could view the drawing clearly.
Isiah stood still, allowing Eijar to examine the paper in her own way. He trusted her instincts and her connection with the dark arts, knowing she might spot hidden clues that eluded him.
Eijar's voice, sibilant and hissing, carried an edge of anticipation. Her forked tongue flickered as she whispered, "Triavert."
Isiah looked up. "You noticed," he said, his voice quiet. "It's just a dark spot on the map of Afan."
