Thoren looked at Neville rushing forward and slowly walked after him. Quickly, Neville entered one of the wooden booths without any hesitation.
"Captain, where are…?" he called out into the darkness.
Ah!
Before he could finish speaking, his voice was abruptly cut off, and his figure vanished into the booth as if swallowed by the shadows.
Hmm?
Seeing this strange occurrence, Thoren halted in his tracks and creased his brow deeply. Slowly, his expression turned grave and alert.
"Neville, are you there?" he asked, staring at the booth with apprehension crawling up his spine.
For a long moment, there was no response at all. Everything was eerily, unnaturally quiet. The silence that bites deep into someone's bones and makes the heart race.
Without hesitation, Thoren commanded his undead servant to step forward. The undead unsheathed its blade, ready to strike at any threat.
Thud! Thud!
