The acrid scent of burnt wood and seared flesh clung to the air as Yara, Val, and Rian moved through the ruined outskirts of the smuggler's burning camp.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, the storm wyvern's fury crackling in the clouds, but for now, it was out of sight.
Their breath came in ragged gasps, lungs tight from smoke, muscles screaming for rest—but there was no time to stop. Not yet.
Behind them, the wyvern's rampage hadn't ceased. Another bolt of lightning cracked across the camp, illuminating the wreckage in blinding white.
The ground trembled beneath their feet as explosions continued in the distance. The smuggler tents were either scorched to cinders or collapsing under the storm's relentless fury.
