The journey toward the northern village was long, and the mood among the soldiers was heavy with anticipation. The darkened skies above had cast an ominous shadow over the land, a stark contrast to the early morning light that had begun to creep across the horizon. Every rustle of wind, every snap of a twig beneath their boots seemed amplified, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Kael rode at the head of the group, his thoughts distant. The Wraithlord's death had been a victory, but one that felt hollow in the wake of everything they had yet to face. He could feel the weight of his responsibility pressing down on him more than ever before. The war was no longer just a battle for survival; it was a race against time. The longer they waited, the greater the chances of something much worse emerging from the shadows.
