By morning, the fog that had clung to the hills of Karihad began to lift, unveiling a world still drenched in dew and chill. A gray sun hovered behind a thin curtain of clouds, casting the abandoned quarry in pale light as Lan, Bragg, and Venom arrived.
They came masked, just as before—no names, no marks, no banners. Only heavy carts pulled by black horses and silent riders trailing behind.
The designated location sat just beyond the edge of the dead quarry—neutral ground agreed upon by both parties.
Half-collapsed scaffolding, rusted chains, and the bones of old mining tools littered the ground. The perfect place for criminals to shake hands.
Lan stood near the largest cart, arms folded, the lacquered black mask hiding everything but the cold steel of his gaze. Beside him, Bragg stretched with a tired grunt, eyes scanning the horizon.
"They'll come," Venom muttered, adjusting the blade at his side. "They always do when gold calls."
Bragg frowned. "And if they try anything?"
