The wind howled through the battered ramparts of Vharthos. The old stonemason traced the cracks with trembling hands, whispering the names of fallen apprentices. His students worked tirelessly to mend the walls, knowing the next assault was imminent.
Soon, the ground began to shake. The Undead came like a tide of despair—skeletons, wraiths, and beasts of bone hammering the gates. We held fast, our shields gleaming in the firelight as 25 days and nights blurred into one endless battle.
Then came Te-Gu, a hulking abomination of twisted flesh and metal. Each strike of his claws sent tremors through the walls, but we did not yield. Aglovan met him in the courtyard, their clash shaking the very foundations of the fortress. When Te-Gu fell, the Undead scattered like dust in the wind. The stonemason, breathing heavily, approached with a spark of hope.
“Alaris passed through here,” he said. “He went to the old mine shaft. Alone.”
The name chilled us. The mage of Eternal Ice… walking willingly toward a forsaken place. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀