The Chronicle of Ange

Previously

…Twisted, skeletal trees clawed at the bruised sky, their branches bare and brittle as ancient bones. Even Garrick, usually so confident, seemed to sense the malevolence that permeated this place. He let out a low growl, a rumble that vibrated through Ange’s boots. "This is it, isn't it?" Ange whispered, her voice barely audible. "The sorcerer's domain." Garrick dipped his head, his sharp beak pointing towards a distant, jagged peak that pierced the horizon like a shard of obsidian. At its summit, a fortress rose, not built of stone and mortar, but of shadow and despair. It seemed to absorb the meager light, its ramparts like grasping claws against the