The city had once been paved and beautiful… or at least, it must have been. Now, the streets were cracked and uneven, worn down by time and ruin. Towering houses lined the road, their shattered windows casting glints of broken glass across the dusty pavement.
The sun hung high over the outskirts of the bleak city, casting long shadows over Lysithara's forgotten remains.
Damon could hear the distant shuffling of monsters moving through the streets, just out of sight—watching. Low-level beasts, no different than his own party in rank… scavengers, clinging to survival in the ruins of a once-great city.
These creatures weren't attacking yet. That was good—for them. Because had they tried, they'd already be dead.
Damon's party had faced far worse than stragglers like these. To them monsters like these, weren't the hunters. They were prey.
Still, that didn't mean they wouldn't attack. For now, they chose to observe. Waiting. Watching.
