"Heave! Heave! Heave!"
The repeated shouts of soldiers echoed across the frozen landscape, their voices rising in unity as they hauled the massive structure forward.
*Grrrnnch! *Grrrnnch! *Grrrnnch! *Grrrnnch!
The blizzard had finally passed, the winds now calm, but snow still crunched beneath their boots with each strained step.
Rope-bound and half-buried wheels screeched against ice as the object moved—an enormous device made of dark metal, strange symbols etched across its surface.
It was a ritual catalyst, forged long ago for a purpose only a few fully understood.
Up above, the skies remained grey and heavy with lingering clouds, but no fresh snow fell.
Dragons roared in the distance, their haunting cries echoing from the far mountains.
Yet none of them dared approach the convoy.
The memory of death—of their kin torn from the sky and ripped apart by blade and spell—still hung in the air like the scent of burnt flesh.
