The mist hung thick over the forest, a suffocating blanket that muffled sound and distorted shapes into haunting silhouettes. Alexander dismounted his steed, the crunch of leaves under his boots barely audible in the dense fog. His breath steamed in the chill, curling in front of his face like a fleeting ghost. He glanced back at his men, a small contingent of five knights, their forms little more than blurred shadows in the haze.
"Keep watch," Alexander ordered, his voice low but commanding. "Be careful not to make too much noise. Mist trolls are the least of our worries here."
The men nodded silently, their hands instinctively resting on the hilts of their swords.
Alexander ran a gloved hand along the bark of a nearby tree, searching for something—something he hadn't seen in decades but remembered vividly. The mark must still be here. His fingers trembled slightly as he scanned the forest, a mixture of anticipation and unease coursing through him.
