Desperation clawed at Ivaris as he surveyed the withered landscape, his chest heaving with frustration. They had fought tooth and nail to reach this place, braving venomous creatures, and treacherous terrain, only to find nothing but decay. He refused to accept such a loss. His hands clenched into fists as he stormed forward, frantically checking every plant within sight, overturning dried roots and running his fingers over brittle leaves, hoping—praying—to find something, anything of worth.
Then, through the gloom of despair, a glimmer of hope emerged. Just ahead, past the lifeless wasteland, something stood untouched by the rampant poison. It was like an oasis in a barren desert—an eerie yet mesmerizing sight. A group of towering, gnarled trees encircled a small crystalline pond, their twisted forms standing like silent sentinels. And within their ominous embrace, three flowers bloomed in defiance of the death surrounding them.
