The ruins of Vedangiri stretched endlessly before them, bathed in the dull orange glow of the setting sun.
Once, this had been a city of towering pillars and grand archways. Now, only broken bones of stone remained, half-buried in the earth. The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, the whisper of the wind carrying stories of battles long forgotten.
Aamir's boots crushed brittle marble beneath them, the sound eerily loud in the silence. His hand never left the hilt of his sword, fingers curled tight around the leather grip. His heartbeat had settled into a steady rhythm, but his instincts screamed otherwise. Something was wrong.
He scanned the ruins—every broken column, every shifting shadow. His muscles coiled, ready to strike at the first sign of danger.
