The night had just begun to fade when they crested a hill and looked down at the clear demarcation between Lass and Zyke Lorn Fall: a sharp divide between the healthy, alive Lass and the brown-black, parched, barren earth of Zyke Lorn Fall. A putrid stain that birthed only dead-walkers, wraiths, and revenants, serving as nothing more than a reminder that the division between earth and hell had become far too blurry.
Raffé shivered as they left Lass behind, body thrumming, aching slightly as the corrupted land began to sink into his skin. "I hate this place already."
"It only gets worse," Telmé said with a grimace. "Ideally we will travel in peace. The denizens will be drawn to us because of our hellish powers, but I can feel the residue of holy might, which will repel them. By the time
