The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the cities neighboring the ominous Death Land. The air, usually filled with the sounds of daily life, was now thick with silence and unease. News of the fall of Pyrohaven and Glacierfell had spread like wildfire, igniting fear in the hearts of the Ascendants.
In the bustling city of Eldoria, a group of Ascendants gathered, their faces etched with worry. They whispered among themselves, their eyes darting around nervously. The tallest among them, a man named Eron, stood with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
"They say the enemies are from Death Land," said a woman with sharp features, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands trembled slightly as she spoke.
Eron nodded slowly, his jaw set firm. "And they are not just any foes. They are undead, relentless and fearsome."
