The echo of footsteps grew louder, their rhythm steady, deliberate. Kael's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, but Morgana's gentle touch on his arm stopped him before he could draw it. She had a calm about her, a belief that there was still a chance to avoid violence if they remained vigilant.
"Stay alert," she whispered, her eyes scanning the shadows that clung to the walls of the abandoned fortress. "We don't know who—or what—is following us."
The footsteps were unmistakable now, and the air around them seemed to thicken with a tension that could almost be felt. It wasn't just the echoes of a physical presence; it was the presence of something more, something older. The fortress itself felt alive with ancient memories, a place where peace had once been shattered.
Aiden, who had been guarding the rear, turned to Kael, his brow furrowed. "We should move quickly," he suggested. "We don't know what's waiting for us."
