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Chapter 687: The Elven Demon (1)
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... ve remembers its traitor." He touched the page; ink recoiled, sizzling as if scalded. "And wants him excised."
The tunnels tightened, ceiling pressing low. Cold deepened. Draven's breath fogged in short bursts. Each inhalation tasted of cedar and distant smoke. Between steps he evaluated: mist density rising, memory distortions escalating, corruption threads thicker toward the heart. He eased his blade angle, preparing for closer quarters.
Sylvanna fell silent, focus narrowing. H ...
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