The mist thickened as Elara and the others moved deeper into the Forgotten Vale, the ancient ruins rising up before them like the bones of some long-dead giant. Massive stone pillars, weathered by time and half-covered in creeping vines, loomed overhead. Strange, unreadable symbols adorned the walls, their faint glow the only source of light in the oppressive darkness.
"This place feels... wrong," Jarek muttered, his hand gripping his axe tighter as his eyes darted around. "Like the air itself doesn't want us here."
Elara nodded, her instincts sharp. "It's heavy with magic. Old magic. We need to be careful."
Kirin moved ahead, keeping his shield raised, his eyes constantly scanning for threats. "If this place has been sealed for so long, we should assume it's riddled with traps."
