The horn’s echo had barely faded before the first figures emerged from the valley below. Clad in dark, weathered armor, they moved with a purpose—silent, efficient, and undeniably dangerous. Their faces were obscured by masks, some carved from bone, others shaped from iron, each one unique yet equally unsettling.
Elena shifted her weight, her hand steady on her sword. “This doesn’t look like a warm welcome.”
Taren, ever unfazed, merely adjusted his gloves. “Depends on how you define ‘welcome.’”
Kael gave him a sharp glance. “Enough riddles. What are we walking into?”
Taren exhaled, tilting his head slightly as the approaching figures stopped a dozen paces away. “The Trial.”
Elena’s grip tightened. “The what?”
One of the masked figures stepped forward, taller than the rest, his should
