"Roamers…" she said, her voice low, each syllable hanging in the stale air like a warning.
She paused, her gaze distant, as though she were pulling memories from a place she'd rather not revisit. The room seemed to grow colder, the flickering candlelight casting restless shadows on the cottage walls.
"They were not always monsters," she began, her tone tinged with something that might have been sorrow or resignation. "Once, they were the lifeblood of Ithelvaire... the alchemists and their loyal hounds, celebrated for their craft and devotion. But Yadred's corruption spared no one."
