Rakahn felt the ground slipping beneath his feet as he raced down the rocky slope, his khopesh blades gleaming in his hands. Ahead, the shadow loomed, wrapping around the demon like a cloak of dark mist. Its eyes, glowing red like embers, pierced through the darkness, still and menacing. The few soldiers still standing behind Rakahn watched him with a mix of fear and hope. They knew that if he failed, none of them would leave this place alive.
The demon didn't move as Rakahn approached. Instead, it seemed to meld into the shadows, its form shifting like dark water over stones. When it reappeared, it was no longer alone: two other spectral figures stood by its side, imperfect copies mirroring its every move. Rakahn felt his heart race. This illusion was unsettling, a treacherous play of shadows ready to trap him.
