With slow, measured steps, Thoren strode forward, his grip tightening around the hilt of his iron sword.
The cold metal pressed reassuringly against his palm, anchoring him to reality amid the suffocating eeriness of the ancient city.
In the distance, the outline of what had once been a magnificent palace gradually emerged from the fog.
Even in ruin, its presence dominated the city, towering above the surrounding structures like a fallen monarch refusing to bow.
Thoren increased his pace, deliberately ignoring the thousands of stone statues lining the streets.
He refused to let their frozen gazes slow him down.
As he approached the palace grounds, the full extent of the destruction became clear.
Stone bricks lay scattered across the courtyard, reduced to rubble as if struck by overwhelming force.
Broken weapons, swords snapped in half, spears bent at unnatural angles, shields split cleanly down the middle, were scattered across the ground like discarded toys.
