I had wandered deep into the highlands, farther than I had ever dared before. The villages I passed became sparse, then vanished altogether, leaving only the unbroken expanse of mountains and the whisper of wind through pine. My goats, ever faithful, followed me, their bells tinkling faintly as we trudged along rocky trails.

It was by chance—or perhaps fate—that I found the lake. Hidden within a fold of the mountains, its surface was a mirror, reflecting the sky in a clarity that made it impossible to tell where the earth ended and the heavens began. I stopped in awe, my staff planted firmly in the ground as I drank in the beauty of the place.

I would have stayed by that lake for hours had it not been for the faint sound of metal striking stone. It echoed across the water, sharp and steady, leading my gaze to a figure perched on the far shore.

They worked with fierce concentration, a chisel in one hand and a hammer in the other, carving shapes into a boulder that rose like a sentinel from the ground. The person was cloaked in shadows, their features obscured by the setting sun, but their movements were confident, precise.

Curiosity compelled me forward. My goats hesitated but followed as I circled the lake, the sound of my approach muted by the soft earth beneath my sandals. The figure did not look up, even as I drew close enough to see the sweat glistening on their brow, the calluses on their hands.

I cleared my throat gently.

"Forgive me for disturbing your work," I said.

"I am Wei Lan, a healer traveling through these mountains. Might I trouble you for shelter? The sun will set soon, and I have nowhere to rest."