The sun had barely risen above the horizon, casting a faint orange glow over the landscape as the mercenary lieutenant, Rourke, and his small team of scouts made their way through the dense forest. The undergrowth crunched beneath their boots, and the air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. Rourke, a seasoned warrior with a weathered face and a piercing gaze, led the group with the confidence of someone who had seen more battles than he cared to remember.
They moved swiftly and silently, each man alert to the slightest sound. The mission was simple: scout the outskirts of Ferm and report back any activity. The city had been abandoned for months, and they expected to find little more than crumbling ruins and perhaps a few scavengers. But as they neared the edge of the forest, Rourke couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was off.
