Nero slipped past the guards like a ghost, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The Veil of Darkness clung to his shoulders, its presence both comforting and unnerving. He could feel it draining his Ein Sof, a slow but steady trickle that reminded him he was doing something very dangerous.
The segregated camp was larger than he'd expected.
Over a dozen tents arranged in a rough circle, with the largest positioned at the center. Torches burned at intervals, casting flickering shadows that danced across the dull canvas. Large war horses continued grazing, oblivious to his presence.
Nero moved carefully between the tents, avoiding the patches of light. His boots pressed softly against the grass.
He paused at the edge of the first tent, pressing himself against the canvas as two Templars passed nearby. Their armor clinked softly with each step.
Nero held his breath.
