The camp behind them hummed with the buzz of sounds as Dario led them to where their guests were waiting.
The soldiers sharpened their blades, stoked the fires, murmuring among themselves in uneasy voices, all the while unaware of the titanic forces assembling just beyond their reach.
Death walked in silence, Luna beside him, her hand brushing his cloak, the warmth of her aura the only thing that offset the suffocating chill of his own.
They crossed through the snow dusted trees until the forest gave way to a clearing.
There, standing as though they had always belonged to the mountain itself, waited two figures.
They kept a careful distance outside the circle of Death's aura. Even at Rank 9, they weren't untouchable, not from him.
His death aura wouldn't kill them instantly like it did lesser beings, but the steady drain would devour them if they dared to step too close. He was Rank 8 after all.
