The forest was eerily quiet as Morgana, Kirin, and Lyana made their way back toward the temple ruins. The trees, once alive with the sounds of nature, now stood silent sentinels, their branches swaying lightly in the cold wind. It was as if the land itself had been stilled, waiting for something ominous to unfold.
Morgana moved ahead of her companions, her eyes scanning the path. Every step felt heavier than the last. The events at the Vault had only been the beginning, and with the looming threat of the Iron Fists, the weight of what lay ahead pressed down on her. She knew they were walking into a storm—one that could decide the fate of everything they had fought for.
