The gorge had become a furnace of sound and motion. The revenants poured from the walls in an unending tide, their bodies clawing free as though the gorge itself had birthed them. Each figure was a nightmare given flesh, broken remnants of soldiers, hunters, and wanderers long forgotten. Their armor clung in jagged shards, rust and bone fused together, and their eyes burned with pale, unearthly coals. The air grew thick with their stench, wet ash, iron, and the sour tang of rot, until breathing itself felt poisoned.
Sofia fought like a creature possessed. Her sword flashed arcs of steel in the half-light, each strike swift and deliberate, honed from a lifetime of war. Yet for every revenant she carved down, two more clawed free, dragging themselves forward with an unnatural, stumbling persistence. Sweat and blood mingled down her cheek, but her voice rang sharp and steady above the chaos:
"We can't hold them here!"
