The cold, crisp air of the Shadowlands hung heavily around them as the armies of Valoran, Eberdeen, and the dwarves from Glairn and Floren pressed onward. The journey had been long and grueling, but their resolve never wavered. In the distance, the twisted silhouette of the mountains loomed, jagged peaks like the teeth of some ancient beast waiting to devour them.
James marched at the front of the column, Zeldor strapped to his back, its presence a comforting weight. His thoughts were heavy as the barren, scarred land stretched before them, a desolate waste where nothing green grew, and no animals stirred. It was as if life itself had been drained from the earth.
Pippy walked silently beside him, her large bunny ears twitching at every subtle sound carried by the wind. Her keen senses were on high alert, though her face remained as composed as ever. The tension in the air was palpable, the quiet too unnatural for her liking.
