The Lunar Legacy
He tightened his grip on his sword, his claws twitching, the blue glow casting jagged shadows around him, the spire’s hum growing louder, the valley a crucible for their unity, the chill a distant threat, their bond a radiant light in the cold.
The ground shuddered violently, the spire’s blue glow flaring into a blinding light, the runes on the ice shards around it glowing brighter, the air crackling with dark energy, the frost crunching as massive shapes began to rise from the ground—Frostspire Sentinels, hulking constructs of ice and obsidian, their forms jagged and towering, standing nearly ten feet tall, their bodies a mass of translucent ice, veins of obsidian running through them like
Bab Populer