Kelvin's pulse quickened, his hand tightening on his staff. The Iron Crags, a jagged, storm-swept range of peaks and chasms.were notorious in Sanctum lore, a place where even seasoned tamers tread lightly.
"What kind of aberrations?" he asked, his voice was steady despite the unease coiling in his gut.
Torin gestured to a rune-projected image that flickered into the air which was a grotesque creature with multiple limbs, its body was a twisted amalgamation of beast and nightmare and its eyes glowed with malevolent hunger, its maw dripped with black ichor.
"Hybrids," Torin said. "They are attacking trade routes and threatening the northern villages. You will go, investigate, and close the rift. The Sanctum's monitoring system will track you, but extraction is not guaranteed."
Lyra stepped forward, her voice was calm but probing. "Is there an anchor-like in the grove?"
