Atop the hill, where a semi liquid river rushed downward in a restless surge, an arm glossed by ice and stone reached out from the slope. It clawed against the frozen earth, fingers grinding over pebbles before dragging the rest of its body up onto the crest.
The surface of the river shimmered faintly, its waters thick like syrup yet moving with violent intent. Mist clung low over the ground, curling around the rising figure as if reluctant to let it go.
It wasn't alone.
More shapes emerged from the riverbank, their slim builds coated in a sheen that reflected neither light nor shadow properly. One after another they climbed free, silent and deliberate, then straightened as though guided by a single will.
Without hesitation they rushed forward, feet barely making a sound against the frostbitten soil. The forest at the hill's edge swallowed them whole, bark and branch accepting their presence as if they had always belonged there.
Assassin golems.
