POV: Silver Colt
The early morning mist clung to the edges of the forest like a ghostly veil, chilling the air and dampening the earth beneath my boots. I had been sent to patrol the border—a routine assignment, they said—but instinct screamed unease. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, set my nerves on edge. The forest seemed alive, watching, waiting.
I tightened my grip on the wooden training sword I had borrowed from the hall, my knuckles whitening. “Just a routine patrol,” I whispered to myself, forcing courage into my voice. “Nothing can happen… right?”
A sudden growl froze me mid-step. My head snapped toward the sound, heart hammering in my chest. Shadows moved with unnatural swiftness between the trees. Rogues.
“They’re here!” I yelled instinctively, raising my sword.
