The cavern was eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of dripping water echoing off the icy walls. While the Silver Ravens Guild fought fiercely on the third level of the dungeon, a new group of intruders silently entered through the shadowed tunnels of the first floor.
Cloaked in robes as dark as midnight, this smaller group moved with an ominous grace, their presence like a cold whisper of death. The air around them seemed to thrum with a sinister energy, a palpable mixture of blood magic and shadow that even the darkness seemed to shy away from.
Leading the group was Brynja, a towering man whose broad shoulders and sharp features radiated authority. His cold, obsidian eyes flicked over the path ahead. "Gunnlod," he said, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a blade, "are you certain this is the right place?"
