Valthorn City
Dark, gloomy clouds loomed over the city skyline, thick and heavy, like the eyes of a demon god watching from above. The sunlight was faint and scattered, swallowed by the grey above, casting an ashen glow across the cobbled roads and crooked rooftops.
After a long day tending to the spirit fields beyond the walls, farmers trudged back to their homes, their backs hunched, eyes weary. With each step, they paused to glance back at the massive city gates—silent sentinels that stood between them and the ominous forest line. The air carried an uncomformtable chill.
Fully armored guards were stationed at the gates, their gazes locked onto the trees in the distance, muscles tensed beneath their armor. Their hands rarely left the hilts of their weapons, and their eyes flickered with nervous hesitation. Even the wind seemed to whisper warnings from the forest's depths.
