The convoy plunged deeper into the ominous Ayzion Mountain Range, the rumble of the remaining trucks echoing ominously off jagged cliffs.
Dust trailed behind them like a ghostly veil, dissipating into the pale light filtering through rolling clouds.
Hours had slipped by since the first ambush, and though they had killed all of them, the mountains only seemed to tighten their grip of dread.
The first bodies lay far behind them, but what awaited ahead was even worse.
Corpses littered the trails in grotesque displays,broken bones twisted at unnatural angles, blood splattered across unforgiving stone, lifeless eyes staring blankly at an indifferent sky.
Arthur sat in the lead truck, his cold gaze fixed ahead.
His face bore smears of blood; his suit was streaked with dark stains,some from enemies and others from his own men.
Yet he displayed no emotion. His jaw was set firm, movements precise. Inside him, however, turmoil twisted like a coiled serpent.
