The Necromancer was just a piece in a much larger game, and the journey would now take them to Vanaheim, the world of the Vanir Gods, where the next Evolved, who could be an ally or an enemy, awaited.
"Let's go..." Kaizen muttered, feeling the weight of exhaustion on his shoulders. He sheathed his sword with a slow, almost ritualistic motion.
Beside him, Alaric adjusted his cloak and checked the remains of his supplies. The battle had been hard, but the next day would bring new challenges.
The journey to Vanaheim had been arduous. Kaizen and Alaric walked for hours, through dense forests and over towering mountains, until they finally saw the tall, elegant walls of the elven city of Elandor.
The towers of gleaming white stone seemed to touch the sky, while the banners of elven symbols waved softly in the wind. The air there was different, purer, and the trees around the city were majestic, as if they were part of a picture painted by the gods themselves.
