Finally, night stretched its dark blankets across the galaxy, draping the heavens in a velvet shroud. Starlight burned like scattered embers in a cosmic forge, their glow spilling across the horizon, lending a haunting beauty to the battlefield. The wind, restless and rigid, blew as though it had lost its very sense of direction, carrying with it whispers of dread to far-off places. The air itself thickened, suffused with pressure, fear, terror, bloodlust, and raw domination, as if tension had seized the reins of nature itself.
Hildred stood at the forefront, his forehead creased with determination though a lone bead of sweat betrayed the storm within, sliding down his cheek like a confession. Behind him, Lumina lingered close, her heart hammering a war-drum rhythm, her hands trembling faintly from the recoil of her last arrow. Dunstan, Beorn, and Rex formed the rear guard, silent but brimming with unease.
