The sound reached first.
Not footsteps. Not the shuffle of men.
Scraping.
Claws against stone, a chittering rhythm that rolled like the gnashing of teeth.
The cavern air grew heavier, damp with the stench of rot and sulfur. The humans stiffened, swords rattling in their hands. Mothers pressed children deeper into the tunnels. The commander's scarred face hardened as he raised his blade, but even he looked toward Lindarion.
Always toward him.
'So it begins,' Lindarion thought, fingers tightening on his hilt. His shadows stirred, eager, restless.
[System Notice: Hostile wave approaching. Estimated number: 142.]
Selene's voice slipped through the tension, warm against his mind. "One hundred or a thousand—it makes no difference, Master. We will break them all. You need only stand."
'You make it sound simple.'
"It is. Because it is you."
