The fog clung to them like wet cloth, muffling sound, swallowing sight.
Kaelen gripped his shield until his knuckles ached. His chest rose and fell in jagged rhythm, every breath tinged with blood and iron. Around him the mercenaries stood ragged but unbroken, shields pressed close, blades slick.
And then… silence.
The enemy, who moments before had pressed them hard, fell back into the mist. Their footsteps receded like a tide retreating from the shore. The clash of iron faded. The chant of masked soldiers dwindled.
For the first time since dawn, the world held still.
“Why have they stopped?” Garen rasped, blood streaking his face. His sword trembled in his grip. “They had us breaking, why pull back now?”
No one answered. Even Roran, hard-eyed and sure in every fight before, only sto
