Please Wait...
Beside her, Silas, the loyal squire, gripped his sword. He wasn't a hero of legend, just a man who believed in a promise. "Then we move faster," he countered, though the sweat on his brow told a different story.
Suddenly, the forest went silent. The birds stopped mid-chirp. From the darkness, a figure emerged—tall, skeletal, and draped in tattered black silks. The Lich. He didn't speak; he didn't need to. The ground beneath Elora’s feet began to wither, the grass turning to ash in a perfect circle around the dark sorcerer. Beside her, Silas, the loyal squire, gripped his sword
Willow stepped forward, planting his feet. He began an incantation in a tongue that sounded like grinding stones. A barrier of shimmering light flickered into existence, catching a bolt of necrotic energy launched by the Lich. The air hissed. The smell of ozone filled the clearing. Suddenly, the forest went silent
They weren't alone for long. Out of the shadows stepped Willow Ufgood. He looked older than the legends said—tired, his robes frayed at the edges. In his hand, he gripped a carved wooden wand, its tip pulsing with a faint, uncertain amber glow. The Lich