As Chief Doran made his way through the quiet, winding streets of the Town of Old, his footsteps echoed softly on the cobblestones. The shadows of the tall, weathered buildings loomed around him, their ancient presence providing little comfort. The night air was cool, but there was a tension in the air that even he could not ignore.
Suddenly, without a sound, one of his henchmen materialized next to him, moving with an unnatural swiftness and precision. The man leaned in close to Doran's left ear, his voice a low, menacing whisper.
"Chief, there is something... unusual about the young man, Kaelen," the henchman murmured. "He carries the scent of the High Order."
Doran froze mid-step, his entire body stiffening. His calm facade shattered for a moment, and a shudder of shock rippled through him. Rage quickly followed, darkening his sharp features as he clenched his fists at his sides.
