Kael fell to his knees, clutching his head as the Wraith whispered insanities into his mind. The mental pressure was enough to crack a normal human psyche.
Elian tightened the straps of his pack, his breath hitching in the thin mountain air. Beside him stood Kael, shivering not from the cold, but from the sheer oppressive weight of the atmosphere. They were miles from the nearest outpost, standing before the Gate of the Silent King—a dungeon entrance that had swallowed whole battalions. archetype plini