The Trap
It was over in just minutes.
The once-threatening mercenaries now lay scattered across the battlefield, their bodies broken and motionless. Blood soaked the rocky ground, pooling beneath twisted forms.
Ronan wiped his axe clean with a rag, his sharp eyes scanning the cliffs above. "Pathetic," he muttered, kicking a fallen enemy aside.
The knights started clearing the broken boulder obstructing the road, others pulling the bodies of the dead toward the edge of the pass. Aurelia sheathed her sword, her eyes lingering on the surrounding heights, her instincts bristling with caution.
Ronan approached Garran, his tone low but sharp. "Do you remember what I said before we chose this route?"
Garran's face darkened as he recalled their conversation the night before.
Yesterday
"Why Thornshade Pass?" Garran had asked. "It's a death trap—narrow, exposed, and perfect for an ambush."