Thalia's vanguard advanced with precision, slipping through the dense underbrush and using the cover of darkness to mask their movements. The air was thick with tension, each step measured and deliberate. The vanguard's mission was clear: breach the enemy's defenses and pave the way for the main force.
As they approached the enemy encampment, the sound of chanting grew louder, a low, malevolent hum that reverberated through the air. The dark energy emanating from the ritual site was palpable, a heavy, oppressive force that seemed to press down on their very souls.
Thalia signaled for her team to spread out and take their positions. With practiced efficiency, they surrounded the perimeter, silently dispatching any guards who stood in their way. The cultists, consumed by their ritual, remained oblivious to the approaching danger.
"Now," Thalia whispered, her voice barely audible.
