Nyssa's breath caught as the cloaked figures circled them, their silver masks glinting in the dim light.
Caelan's hand hovered over his sword, but he didn't draw it. Not yet. They were outnumbered.
The voice spoke again, smooth and cold. "The prince and his little seer… We expected you sooner."
Nyssa's pulse pounded. "You knew we were coming?"
A figure stepped forward, their mask more elaborate than the others. "Fate knew."
Caelan's voice was sharp. "And what does fate say about us?"
The leader tilted their head. "That depends… on how much you're willing to sacrifice."
Nyssa stiffened. "We came for answers."
The leader chuckled. "And answers always come with a price."
Before Nyssa could respond, the air shifted. A strange, pulsing energy filled the space, sending a chill down her spine.
The leader raised a gloved hand. "You want to understand your bond? Then step forward, Seer."
Nyssa hesitated.
Caelan's hand brushed hers—a silent reassurance.
She took a deep breath and stepped forward.
The leader lifted their mask, revealing piercing silver eyes. Ancient. Knowing. Unforgiving.
"Show me your visions, girl."
And then, before Nyssa could react—the world around her shattered.
Darkness swallowed her whole.