As dawn broke over the horizon, Amara's group descended into the valley, the small village nestled in the distance like a forgotten relic. Its rooftops were uneven, weathered by years of neglect, and the cobblestone streets seemed quiet—too quiet, as if the inhabitants were ghosts themselves.
Amara rode at the front, her gaze fixed on the village's outskirts. The whispers in her mind had returned, soft but insistent, reminding her of the oaths she carried. She had hoped the village might provide answers, or at least a place to rest, but now she wasn't so sure. There was a strange energy in the air, something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge.
Elias rode beside her, his eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced vigilance. "Doesn't feel right," he muttered.
"I know," Amara replied, keeping her voice low. "Stay sharp. Something's off."