Liana's journey through the ruined packs had been nothing short of harrowing, a grim journey through scenes of devastation that were both haunting and nauseating. The stench of death had lingered in the air, thick and oppressive, clinging to her skin and clothes no matter how hard she tried to shake it off. The ground had still been covered with blood that had long since dried into a sickly, rusty hue, and the once-thriving communities were now silent graveyards, filled with memories of lives brutally cut short.
She had moved with purpose, though each step was like trudging through quicksand. The warlocks she had dragged along had trailed behind her, their faces etched with a mixture of dread and fascination. They were powerful, seasoned in their craft, but even they had never encountered
