Everything beneath us was dead.
The grass, the trees, even the earth itself—consumed by the black rot creeping outward like a living wound. The mist slithered along the horizon, spreading in tendrils that devoured the light.
The dead had taken this land.
And gods, I had a terrible feeling they wouldn’t stop there.
My wings ached. I couldn’t stay airborne any longer, so Muir shifted fully, his sapphire form vast and gleaming, letting Revik and me climb onto his back. Raiden transformed beside us, lightning flickering along his scales as we took off again—silent, fast, fleeing the ruin behind us.
The cold bit at my skin, sharp and merciless. But I barely felt it.
My mind was still replaying the way the dead had moved—their twisted limbs, the way the ground died under their feet.
What
