*Rhys*
The jagged spires of Pyroth's stronghold pierced the gloomy sky as we approached, their once-majestic forms now twisted and decayed.
A foreboding air clung to the crumbling stone, whispering of battles past and the darkness that had seeped into the very mortar of the fortress.
Even the sky reflected the darkness that had settled into the realm, with dark, sooty clouds covering the sky.
"Almost there," I murmured, more to myself than anyone else. I could feel the pulse of my wolf blood in my veins, a rhythm that seemed to sync with each step we took toward our final confrontation. I needed to get to Saoirse.
Axureon walked beside me, his ancient eyes betraying no fear, only a solemn determination. "Stay vigilant, Rhys," he intoned, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder. "It is clear that Pyroth has become something… other. Time here works differently than it does in your realm. We do not know what we will face."
