They moved through the forest at a slower pace.
The horned horses were left deeper among the trees, tied and hidden with simple concealment spells from Seris. From there, the three continued on foot.
The ground sloped downward as they approached the village.
Mike stopped at the edge of a small rise and signaled the others to get down.
Below them, the village came into view.
Or what was left of it.
Several houses were damaged, doors torn apart and walls cracked. Pale blue flames flickered between buildings. Dozens of undead moved through the streets—armored skeleton warriors, skeletal archers on rooftops, and heavier units dragging rusted weapons behind them.
At the center of it all floated a skeletal mage.
Its bones were darker than the others, etched with glowing runes. A cracked staff hovered beside it, mana pulsing steadily from the core in its chest.
"Skeleton mage," Seris whispered. "And a strong one."
Mike narrowed his eyes. "That's the one controlling them."
