The thick forest swayed ahead, its twisted branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal fingers.
A thick fog rolled over the damp ground, slithering between tangled roots and rocks.
Every step felt heavier in the cold night air.
Beyond the trees, past the uneven terrain, stood what once was a orc settlement which had now become a stronghold for the undead faction.
A dark, crumbling fortress, its walls worn with time but still standing strong.
Faded banners hung limply from its towers, stained with decay.
The flickering blue glow of torches lined the perimeter, casting long, eerie shadows.
Adam crouched low in the undergrowth, his gaze fixed on the guards patrolling the walls.
Their movements were precise, repeating the same patterns over and over again, like a routine burned into their rotting minds...
He counted their steps.
Watched the exact moment when they turned their backs...
Leila knelt beside him, gripping her staff.
