The fog in Narhild thickened, swallowing everything beyond a few steps ahead. Void's golden spell glowed faintly, casting a small circle of light, the only patch of clarity in a world drowned in shadow. Outside that glow, there was nothing but shifting darkness and the silhouettes of things that moved.
Reiner raised his sword, fingers stiff and cold. He could hear his heartbeat louder than his own breath. Beside him, Void stood with both hands lifted, whispering rapid incantations that barely rose above the hiss of the fog.
Randal stepped forward half a pace, axe raised. He didn't speak, just let out a low growl, like instinct had taken the reins.
Then something stirred in the mist.
A shadow darted low, its long legs clicking against stone like metal claws. And then it lunged, no hesitation, no warning.
"What the hell is that?!" Reiner gasped, face pale, hands trembling.
