The Obsidian Spire**
**1. The Deadlands**
Three days of hard riding brought them to the edge of the Deadlands.
The forest had given way to a wasteland of cracked earth and skeletal trees, their branches twisted like grasping fingers. The air smelled of ozone and something darker—something *rotting*.
Mikey’s horse shied beneath him, nostrils flaring. The shadows in his veins *thrummed*, resonating with the energy pulsing from the horizon.
There, jutting from the barren earth like a dagger plunged into the world’s heart, stood the Obsidian Spire.
**“It’s real,”** Weiss breathed, his knuckles white around his reins.
Zelene’s flames flickered to life along her fingers, reacting to the oppressive magic thickening the air. **“It’s worse than real.”**
The Spire wasn’t just
