The swords at your neck

The night enveloped the room, its icy fingers creeping through the cracks. Outside, the cold breeze whispered secrets, and the moon hung like a silver lantern, casting ethereal shadows on the snow-covered ground.

Elley, her breath visible in the frigid air, squared her shoulders. She had questions—questions that weighed heavy on her heart. Prince Ivive, the enigmatic traveler, stood before them, his eyes veiled by centuries of secrets.

"Tell us," Elley's voice cut through the silence, sharp as a blade. Her gaze bore into the prince, demanding answers. Among the six weary travelers and her spectral sister, Selina, Elley harbored a deep-rooted resentment for practitioners of dark magic.