The squad moved out—shadows among shadows—guided by Alpha's silent hand. Her movements were precise, each step placed with the confidence of someone who had already walked this path—and survived it.
The descent into the crevice was treacherous. Jagged stone fangs jutted out from the walls, and snow gave way in places to slick, black ice. Beneath their feet, faint vibrations pulsed at intervals—rhythmic, almost mechanical. Like a slumbering giant breathing beneath the earth.
Cliff felt them too. A hum in his bones, like a whispered warning from the mountain itself.
Suddenly, Alpha raised her fist.
The column froze.
She crouched, brushing aside a layer of frost to reveal a rune carved into the ground—barely visible, but powerful. Her fingers hovered above it for a moment, analyzing its weave.
"Displacement trap," she murmured. "Would've scattered us across miles."
