The wind howled as Kaelron and his companions trudged through the desolate expanse. The Southern Expanse was a harsh and unyielding landscape, its jagged cliffs and treacherous ravines illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon above. Each step felt heavier than the last as the group moved cautiously through the uneven terrain.
Ignis walked beside Kaelron, the gryphon's feathers bristling as if sensing something amiss. Nyx and Umbra scouted ahead, their movements swift and precise, while Eryk and Frostbane covered the rear. Zerin stayed close, his daggers glinting faintly in the moonlight, his sharp gaze scanning the shadows for any sign of danger.
"This place feels wrong," Eryk muttered, breaking the uneasy silence. "Too quiet. Too still."
Kaelron nodded, his hand resting on the relic at his side. Its faint pulsing had been growing stronger with every step, filling him with an unease he couldn't shake. "Stay alert," he said. "The cult won't let us move freely for long."
