A NASTY BAD LUCK

As Kaelen and his companions sat down, breathing heavily after their grueling battle with the Dark Griffin, they began to slowly recuperate. The cliffside was eerily quiet now, the only sound being the distant crash of waves below. Exhaustion weighed heavily on all of them, but there was a small sense of victory in the air.

"I still can't believe we killed it," Morris said, leaning back against a rock, his multicolored mana finally dissipating. "A Dark Griffin… we made history today."

Kaelen nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "We need to rest. We're not out of danger yet."

Guinevere, sitting a few feet away, was staring at the horizon. "We should stay on guard, just in case."

Before anyone could respond, the wind shifted. There was a sudden, unnatural stillness in the air, and the subtle sound of footsteps could be heard—faint, but drawing closer.

Kaelen's instincts flared, but it was too late.