Dozens and dozens of golems rose from the cracked earth, their bodies reforming with thick rocky plates.
The Old Hag's laughter echoed as green smoke twisted from her cauldron. This time, she wasn't holding back. Before, she had treated Ren, Evie, and Ragnar like background noise—amusing toys she could crush whenever she felt like it.
But the moment Ren disrupted her spell, that amusement turned into hatred. Now, her bloodshot eyes glared only at them.
Draki, Orakh, and the remaining Orcs were battered and bruised. Some had deep cuts, others broken weapons. Everyone was exhausted, and facing a new horde of freshly empowered golems was the last thing they wanted.
"Now would be the best time to tell us your plan!" Ragnar shouted, his tone sharp as he stepped back. The golems' armor gleamed, their forms now twice as bulky after being drenched with the Hag's shimmering potions. Their red eyes glowed with menace, each movement heavier, faster, deadlier.
