The sun had just risen, casting a soft golden hue over the forested trail. The three travelers moved in silence, their footsteps muffled by fallen leaves and dry soil. Sunlight pierced through the canopy, illuminating the winding dirt path that led eastward—toward the jagged mountains where the Knight Tower stood hidden among ancient cliffs. Karl walked at the front, his ashen cloak fluttering quietly behind him. Molvar trailed close behind, grumbling about a tasteless breakfast, while Sir Cedric marched on with his ever-solemn expression.
Not long after their departure, a shift in the air became evident. The soil underfoot gave way to patches of dark stone, cold to the touch despite the warm morning sun. Gusts of wind slipped through rocky crevices, howling like distant sighs from a forgotten age. Karl halted, placing a gloved hand upon a large slab of blackened stone, his brows furrowing in concentration.
