chapter 18

Eamon's pov

I stormed away from the sorcerer's hut, my mind a whirlwind of doubt and frustration. The sorcerer's vision had left me deeply unsettled to be honest, despite my initial skepticism. As I descended the mountain, my steps heavy with the weight of uncertainty, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of helplessness.

Without a word, I stopped over at a nearby bar, the dimly lit interior offering a stark contrast to the blinding whiteness of the snow outside. I needed a drink to numb the turmoil in my mind, if only for a moment.

I took a seat at the bar, the cool wood beneath my fingertips a welcome distraction. The bartender, a burly wolf with a grizzled beard, approached. "What'll it be, sir ?"

"Whiskey," I muttered, my voice low and filled with frustration.

As I nursed my drink, I felt a presence beside me. It was Lisa I guess she finally caught up. Her usually cheerful demeanor was replaced by a somber expression, her eyes reflecting her concern.

"Eamon," she began softl