The shadows moved with an eerie fluidity, their forms barely distinguishable from the night that blanketed the town. They twisted and rippled, pulling themselves free from the surrounding darkness, advancing on the group in waves. The silence of the cursed town seemed to heighten the sound of every step, every breath of the warriors standing against them.
Draven, or rather Dravis as he was known to the others, felt the familiar weight of his twin curved blades in his hands. The moment he caught sight of the advancing creatures, his body moved without hesitation. He lunged forward, each motion swift and precise, his blades whistling through the air in a deadly arc. His movements were not just fluid—they were calculated, almost mechanical in their efficiency.
