Daciano
The rest of the night is quiet, the loss of a soldier so soon hanging over us all. A shallow grave is dug to commit the body of our comrade, and we continue our journey the next morning.
As we march further, I can feel the tension growing, not just from my men but surprisingly from the witches as well. Whatever awaits us at the witches' fraction feels closer with every step, and it's getting hard to shake off the intuitive feeling that we are all walking straight into danger.
It's easy to notice — the nearer we get to the boundary of the witches' fraction, the darker the forest grows, and the more oppressive the air we breathe in becomes, until at last, the entrance stands before us as though it dares us to pass through.
All can feel the atmosphere heavy with tension, and how
