The camp buzzed with an uneasy stillness, broken only by the shouts and hurried footsteps as the knights gripped the trembling rope. It thrummed like a heartbeat, pulsing with tension that vibrated back to the anchored post where Commander Valerie stood, her eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. The first round of scouts had returned without issue, reporting only the bleakness of the wasteland and sparse, wind-swept terrain. Nothing of note. Nothing dangerous.
But the second wave—this was different.
Luke stood a few paces back, watching as knights strained to pull the rope, their hands slick with sweat and dirt. Ilyrana was beside him, gaze fixed with concern. He could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. It was hard not to. Scouts didn't just disappear; not like this, not when they were tethered by rope as a lifeline.
