The landscape didn't just look different. It felt like it was listening.
"We camp here tonight," Soren said to the group. "We cross at first light."
No one questioned him. They looked at the wall of fog ahead and began to unsaddle their horses in a silence that felt like a prayer.
The heavy oak door of the command room thudded shut, the sound echoing through the stone marrow of Fort Vayne.
Soren remained at the table, the flicking candlelight throwing long, distorted shadows across the map Davan had provided.
The red marks, the indicators of the Anakai and fire-beast clusters, seemed to pulse like fresh wounds against the parchment.
He sat with the weight of Davan's report. The beasts were not simply roaming the disputed territory; they were surrounding the ruins.
They were not attacking the ancient stones, nor were they fighting one another. They were forming a perimeter. A siege line.
