Along the outer line of defense, every post had a clear duty. The guard was tight, the watch unbroken, and there was not the smallest gap left exposed.
Alaric stood tall and straight, steady as a pine. A freezing blade rested in his hand, and his eyes, sharp as a hawk's, were fixed on the main camp of the celestials in the distance. The slightest flicker of spiritual power, the smallest shift of a solitary figure, would not escape his search.
Elara moved lightly, hidden in the shadows of the icy rocks. Fine threads of frost gathered at her fingertips as she silently laid down layer after layer of warning wards. The moment the aura of the foreign tribes drew near, the wards would trigger at once, warning them and blocking the intruder at the first possible instant.
Cedric held the blind spot behind them. Heavy spiritual power covered his body at full strength. His fists were drawn tight, and every bit of offensive and defensive force in him waited on the edge of release. If anything tried to slip in for a sneak attack, he was ready to meet it up close and seal that path shut.
The three of them formed a triangular enclosure. Together, they locked down the entire airspace around the exit of the ancestral seat, leaving no opening for any outside enemy to exploit.
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