The road to Aurora's capital stretched before them, a ribbon of cracked cobblestone cutting through fields already tainted with a grayish pallor. It was still morning, yet the sky above looked as if twilight had descended—an unnatural dimness pressing down upon the land. Shellia walked at the head of the group, her dark hair stirring in the sluggish breeze, blue eyes sharp with focus. In her right hand she carried a long silver-white staff topped with a crescent moon sigil; motes of pale light pulsed from the tip like a heartbeat.
Veyra clanked a step behind her, the skeleton knight's armor humming with faint soul-fire. Kaelin moved silently to Shellia's left, her body wrapped in faint streams of shimmering air from her body-enhancement technique. Muscles tightened and released under her cloak with disciplined control. Daryon walked a little apart, his human form veiling the demonic shadow within, while Isyra padded forward, gaze flicking warily between the darkened trees.
