Nightfall descended upon Napuna, veiling the city and its surroundings in darkness. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the forest that lay between the city and Lake Nevya came alive with an air of mystique. The dense canopy overhead blocked out the faint glimmer of moonlight, plunging the forest into more profound obscurity.
It was within this very woodland that King Nicholas I of Bagyarosia had met his untimely demise, forever imbuing the forest with a sense of melancholy.
Alaric guided his team of skilled sharpshooters through the thick underbrush. The forest floor, carpeted with fallen leaves and moss, crunched softly under their careful footsteps.
The towering trees' branches reaching the sky formed a natural fortress that concealed their movements from prying eyes.
The sharpshooters moved with deliberate precision, their senses attuned to the slightest rustle of foliage or the distant hoot of an owl.
