The eerie figure stood motionless, its presence oppressive as the marshland creatures halted their assault, their once mindless aggression seemingly under the control of this dark entity.
Cruzer and Elara instinctively stepped closer together, their backs nearly touching. Cruzer's Abyssal Shardblade thrummed with dark energy, while Elara's staff flickered with residual frost, still cooling from her last spell.
"I don't like this," Elara muttered, her voice low but steady, her sharp eyes fixated on the figure.
"Neither do I," Cruzer responded, his muscles tensed as he weighed the odds. "Whoever they are, they're not just a random swamp mage."
The cloaked figure finally spoke, its voice a hollow rasp, as though it hadn't been used in years. "You've ventured far into a place where you do not belong."
