Veritas vos liberabit

Garryn stared into the fire, the flickering flames casting long shadows across the room. His mind was made up—he would deal with the threat head-on. No more hiding, no more pretending he could live a quiet life while enemies still lurked in the dark. The griffon stirred weakly in the corner, and Garryn’s chest tightened. He had to protect it, and himself.

Just as the resolve settled in his bones, he heard it—a faint crunch of footsteps outside, barely audible over the rain. His heart quickened, instinct immediately flaring. Someone was coming.

He stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as he grabbed his sword from where it leaned against the wall. The familiar weight of it in his hand was a comfort, though he hadn’t expected to need it so soon.

For a moment, Garryn listened. The footsteps drew closer, splashing lightly through the mud. His grip on the hilt tightened. Friend or foe, he wasn’t about to take any chances.

Pushing the door open, Garryn stepped out into the damp night, eyes narrowing as the cold air hit his face. The rain had lessened to a drizzle, but the mist made it hard to see. The faint silhouette of a figure approached through the gloom, and for a heartbeat, Garryn’s breath caught in his throat. Was it one of the assassins? Had they come back to finish the job?

He took a step forward, sword raised, ready for anything.

Who's there? he called, his voice steady despite the tension curling in his gut.

The figure came closer, their features beginning to take shape through the mist. Garryn held his breath, waiting to see whether this was an ally... or another threat.

@Jareth