Saeldir walked among the scattered corpses outside the palace walls, the drizzle forming thin, silvery lines across his white hair and shoulders.
The air was quiet. Too quiet for a battlefield that had been bursting with undead hours ago.
He extended his hand, conjuring faint threads of detection Magic that flowed from his palm and spread over the bodies like translucent mist again.
He still found nothing. No lingering traces, hidden marks, or any spells. There were no threads of corruption leading back to a source.
Just dead bodies.
He moved to the next one, then the next, kneeling briefly to inspect the edges of a corpse's flesh.
The skin had the familiar dull gray texture and the smell of decayed enchantment. But that, too, was normal for this kind of enemy.
He checked the broken bones, the ruptured tissues, the crystallized remnants of whatever foul Magic had animated them.
Still nothing.
Saeldir exhaled slowly. "This isn't right…"
