Night had fallen over the Whispering Woods, draping the ancient trees in a cloak of velvety darkness.
A large fire crackled and spat in the center of a small clearing, pulsing flickering shadows that danced and writhed amongst the trees.
The Silent Guard, their bodies buzzing with newfound power, had made camp a short distance from the Zalathi ruins, their excitement a dense energy that sparked through the night.
Some sparred with each other, testing the limits of their enhanced strength and speed, their movements fluid and graceful, like predators honing skills.
Others sat in small groups, their voices hushed and reverent, discussing the visions they had seen during the ritual, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and terror, the line between both becoming thinner.
They all began to slowly understand what their destiny truly was, a bond they had thought they had lost, now returned to them, to be used and exploited until their next life.
