"Are you sure about this?" Elisse asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she tightened her gloves.
Zayn adjusted the sword strapped across his back, his face set. "We're not sitting this one out."
Kara and Bran nodded in agreement, grim but ready.
The tension was a heavy thing between them, like a storm cloud following each step.
Even Althea, the half-elf receptionist who normally spent her days behind the counter with a gentle smile, stood armed with a slender sword at her waist and leather armor covering her lithe form.
It was a reminder that she wasn't just a pretty face — she was a skilled herself, and a capable one at that.
The town square loomed ahead. They turned the final corner — and the world shifted.
Zayn immediately fought the urge to throw up.
The stone streets were slick with blood, the metallic scent so heavy in the air that it clogged his nostrils.
Bodies lay scattered across the square — some twisted unnaturally, others in still pools of crimson.
