Halewick Corruption

The road to Halewick stretched ahead, slick with the mist that clung to the damp earth. The wind carried the scent of an oncoming storm, heavy and thick, the kind that lingered in your lungs and made the air feel charged, expectant. Kael adjusted the strap of his pack, his fingers brushing against the worn leather of his dagger sheath. The weight of the weapon was comforting, but the unease in his gut remained.

Liora walked beside him, silent but unusually tense. His sharp eyes never stopped moving, flicking from shadowed tree lines to the distant figures on the road ahead. He wasn't just alert—he was expecting something. That was never a good sign.

"You're scanning too much," Kael muttered, keeping his voice low. "Expecting trouble?"

Liora's smirk was absent, replaced by something colder. "Coincidences don't survive in this business."