Midnight had arrived, casting the world in silver under a nearly full moon. In the eerie hush of the night, the only light came from the cold celestial glow above. Jim, Gristie, and Jill crouched low among the thick undergrowth at the outskirts of the White Tower, their movements as silent as shadows.
Ahead, the lone gatekeeper was preparing for a shift change. From the south, a replacement guard trudged up the winding path from Saarlen, his breath misting in the cool air.
As he passed by, Jim and Gristie struck. Jim delivered a swift blow to the back of the man's helmeted head—only to find his attack lacked the force to knock him out. The guard grunted, stumbling forward, his instincts snapping into place as he unsheathed his sword with a sharp hiss of steel.
Jim’s heart pounded as he
