As the last light of day faded and the sky darkened, Alaric and Gilbert stood in the shadow of the dense forest, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The ruins ahead of them were shrouded in eerie silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind. The air was thick with tension, the kind that preceded a storm of violence. Alaric's eyes glimmered with the anticipation of what was to come.
"It's time," Alaric murmured, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night.
Gilbert stood at his side, ever watchful and composed. The two of them had been waiting patiently for the cover of darkness, knowing that their prey would be most vulnerable now. The Hangrove Clan had made their hideout in these ruins, believing they were safe from pursuit. But Alaric was determined to prove them wrong.
"The dark is ours," Alaric said quietly, his gaze locked on the ruins ahead.
Gilbert nodded in agreement. "Shall we summon them, Master?"
