The night was thick, shrouding the world in inky darkness, broken only by the glimmers of a waning moon. Beneath its pallid light, six figures emerged from the forest's edge, their movements synchronized as if choreographed.
Each man wore a hood drawn low over his face, their cloaks absorbing the faint luminescence. Silent hand signals flickered between them, their intentions clear without the need for words.
The lair loomed ahead, a fortress of natural rock and sorcery. Drystan, the infamous keeper of secrets, had built it to repel even the most cunning intruders. The walls shimmered faintly with arcane wards, their magic thrumming like a low heartbeat. One mistake would awaken its slumbering defenses, and the intruders would be reduced to ash.
