Just behind them, the woman with icy eyes, Frost, chimed in softly, her voice a delicate hiss. "Keep your cloak close, Ember—the cold here bites deep."
The scarred man, Ember, glanced sideways, his gaze steely. "I fear no chill, Frost. I was forged in flames, not ice," he murmured, his tone carrying a faint hint of defiance.
The fifth, silent figure—shorter, leaner, yet emanating an almost feral intensity—was known only as Ghost. He gave a slight nod, gesturing subtly toward a narrow alleyway between two snow-dusted buildings. "This way," he muttered, his voice a low growl. "The fewer eyes on us, the better."
Moving in single file, they slipped into the alley, their faces hidden as they made their way deeper into the kingdom, each mindful of their surroundings. They communicated in soft whispers, always aware of any passerby who might overhear.
