The valley stretched before them like a gray sea. Thick fog rolled between jagged cliffs, curling around blackened trees and shattered stone, hiding every movement. Even from the saddle, Elara felt the chill of unseen eyes, the prickling sensation of magic brushing against hers. “Stay close,” Verath said, his voice low but steady. Golden scales glimmered faintly along his arms in the early morning light. “Something isn’t right.” Elara nodded, tightening her cloak. Her hands pulsed with silver violet energy, ready to respond at a moment’s notice. The elite unit followed, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the mist. Hours into the ride, the fog thickened. Shapes flickered at the edges of their vision, figures that disappeared as soon as she focused. The horses grew restless, ears flicking nervously. Suddenly, a shadow flared from the left cliffside. Two shadow assassins lunged from the fog, black blades slicing toward the riders. “Attack!” Verath roared, stepping forward. Dragon fire eru
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