Chapter 203 Arriving In Bhutan

• As dusk settles over the Bhutanese hills, the little monastery seems to draw the day’s last light into itself, glowing faintly against the darkening slopes. The mountains beyond have dissolved into indigo shadows, their outlines softened by drifting mist. A copper bell in the courtyard catches a final glint of sun before the light slips away entirely.
• Prayer flags hang still now, their colors muted in the twilight, while the wind carries the faint scent of incense curling from a lone butter lamp inside. From the open windows comes the low, rhythmic chant of evening prayers — a sound that feels older than the forested hills themselves.
• Far below, the valley is swallowed in shadow, and above, the first stars appear, pale and shy against the deepening violet sky. The monastery, perched on its cliff, becomes a quiet lantern in the vastness, holding back the night with the soft gold of devotion.