They were arriving.
As they did, Damian felt multiple auras surrounded by strong waves of Mana in the far distance. The signatures were unmistakable to his enhanced senses, bright points of power in the darkness of the Lands of Stone.
He frowned.
Because he could also somewhat sense auras of Mana that were familiar.
But it was only three of them.
Three.
The Chieftain had left with more than three. He had taken several Warriors and several Tribesmen who would pose as Warriors. Where were the others?
Damian frowned deeper as he took larger strides, overtaking the figure of Grandmother Essun and coming to be ahead of her. He waved his hand behind him in a gesture for her to slow down.
She did so without complaint, her ancient eyes sharp with understanding.
The darkness of the Lands of Stone was a heavy one. There could be many things prowling around at this hour, beasts and men alike who used the night to hunt what they could not claim during the day.
