The black sun rose on the horizon, casting its strange light on the mountain. It emitted not the comforting warmth of an ordinary sun but a cold, ominous glow.
Its light was dark, with shades of ebony and purple, as if it absorbed the world's colors instead of reflecting them. As it washed over the mountain, the shadows lengthened and contorted unnaturally while the rocky slopes glowed with a spectral radiance.
The vegetation, illuminated by this black luminary, seemed withered and distorted. The wind, cold as water, blew furiously on the mountain.
The small platform where the caravan stood was stained with blood and organs. Knights in black iron armor were cleaning themselves as they tended to the wounded.
The other crew members began to light fires to help the wounded, while others threw the bodies of the demonic creatures, in the shape of wolves and bat wings, into the abyss of the mountain.