The wind carried the scent of ash now.
Faint. Distant. But growing.
Arielle stood at the cliff's edge near the outpost, the forest clearing behind her littered with old weapon racks, abandoned tents, and half-crushed barrels.
Before her, a narrow path wound downward between two steep rock faces—just wide enough for two to walk shoulder-to-shoulder.
Beyond that path, across the northern ridgeline, the demon horde stirred. The vibrations were becoming more pronounced. They were getting closer.
She could feel it.
Not see—not yet.
But the pressure in the air was unmistakable. Essence warped. Light dimmed. The shadows between trees began to move on their own.
They were coming.
She turned back toward the others.
Deyna, Elian, Tarn, Rom, and Kirra stood in a loose cluster, expressions tight, eyes full of unease.
She could feel the change in their moods. There was something off about how they appeared.
