~The Citadel Riders~

The mist clings to the jagged peaks of the Scottish Highlands like a shroud, a silver veil that masks the secrets of the glens. Here, the air is thick with the scent of damp heather and ancient stone, and the only sound is the rhythmic thud of hooves against the peat-heavy earth. These are the Citadel Riders, the silent guardians of the North, moving through the gloaming where history and myth bleed into one.