The scorching wind howled through the skeletal sandstone pillars, carrying the stench of cheap ale and unwashed fur. The tattooed brute from the Desert Viper Pack laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed across the crater. He hefted his spiked iron club, fully expecting the heavily dressed northerners to cower under the brutal desert heat.
He made a fatal miscalculation.
"Form the wall," Kael commanded. His voice wasn't a roar; it was a lethal, chilling whisper that cut straight through the dry wind.
Instantly, the ten elite Blood Moon shadows moved. They didn't charge the overwhelming numbers. Instead, they formed a tight, impenetrable diamond formation directly around Elara. Silver blades hissed as they were drawn from their sheaths, gleaming dangerously under the dying desert sun.
