The adventurers reached the hilltop. They had already moved their tents to this safer spot so they could launch the attack at first light. A cold wind swept gently across the summit, chilling the night air.
Bren lingered behind, staring into the fire. He tossed another log onto the flames, keeping them steady while his eyes constantly scanned the darkness. Fatigue lined his face, but it was overshadowed by the grim seriousness of a man whose strategy was already set in stone.
Mira was busy erecting the barrier. She moved her hands in slow, graceful arcs, drawing glowing blue sigils into the ground. From each mark, faint azure sparks scattered, and a translucent dome—roughly twenty metres in radius—began to take shape around them.
The others had already fallen asleep, exhausted from the long march and the night's work.
Bren sensed someone still standing by the fire. He turned slowly.
