The morning broke gray and heavy, a sky smothered in ash-colored clouds that pressed down on the ruined world below. The convoy moved like shadows across the forgotten borderlands, silent but purposeful.
Zaria led at the front, her boots crunching over gravel and rusted tracks. The scent of iron and oil clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Once, trains had thundered through this place carrying goods and hope. Now, only silence and decay remained.
Behind her, Enric paced with restless energy, his golden eyes sweeping the terrain as if daring danger to show itself. Liora walked lighter, her twin blades gleaming even in the dull light. Clara muttered into the comms, fingers flying over the small device strapped to her wrist. Marcus’s voice carried faintly through the channel, distorted
