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The air was sharp and cold as they descended the winding mountain path, the soft crunch of their boots on the rocky ground the only sound to break the heavy silence.

The Hall of Heroes, built into the jagged peak of the mountain, loomed behind them like a shadowy sentinel. Its towering arches and carved faceless statues were now bathed in the pale silver of moonlight, casting long, eerie silhouettes across the craggy terrain.

The path they walked twisted and turned around the mountain's edge, narrow enough to force them into a single file.

There was no railing to stop anyone from falling, just a sheer drop into the abyss below.

From this height, the wind howled against them, icy and relentless, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and snow from the valleys far below.

Aziz walked somewhere in the middle of the line, his sharp eyes occasionally flickering to the others ahead and behind him.

No one spoke.