Today was a dark day.
A heavy silence hung over the Royal Castle like a storm cloud ready to burst. The sky, cloaked in dense grey, rumbled with faint thunder in the distance. Even the usual warmth of the sun seemed unwilling to shine.
Inside, Damien fastened the last buckle of his battle uniform with practiced ease. The thick, reinforced leather hugged his muscular frame like a second skin. He reached over and slung his crossbow across his back, followed by a finely honed blade with a dark steel sheen that glimmered under the faint light. Arrows with sleek silver tips clinked lightly as he placed them in the holster on his belt.
He was just about to step out when—
Tap, tap, tap—
Rapid footsteps echoed down the corridor behind him. Damien turned his head slightly, his senses already alert, and soon enough, Devrok emerged from the hallway, the tail of his white battle cape fluttering behind him.
