No traps

The harpy warband circled the cavernous entrance like a flock of dark omens silhouetted against the twilight sky.

Their wings sliced through the wind with rhythmic precision, carrying them effortlessly in wide, lazy arcs above the jagged maw of the cave.

Their iridescent feathers shimmered faintly under the failing light, each beat of their wings scattering dust and debris into the air below.

The hum of their gliding flight resonated faintly across the valley, an eerie whisper that underscored the stillness settling over the land.

The harpy leader—a tall, sinewy figure with charcoal-colored feathers streaked with silver—hovered slightly above the others.

His wings extended gracefully, his sharp talons curling and uncurling with agitation as his piercing yellow eyes fixed on the dark void of the cave's entrance.