Aldric clung to the shadows, a wisp of nothingness that simply observed in silence. From his concealed position high above the dark floors of Blackpost, he watched Hariga, alone pacing the desolate halls below. What had been a vibrant fortress that spoke of power and wars won was now an empty testament to the fate of those who defy what they do not understand. It echoed with the hollow clang of Hariga's boots against the cold stone floor.
Hariga moved with a certain restlessness, his broad shoulders hunched beneath the press of growing worries. His hardened, wounded hands traced the faded engravings on the wall, each line mapped with the triumphs of forgotten battles. A flicker of emotion, perhaps longing or regret, crossed his face for just a second before hardening into a grim resolve.
