The smoldering ruins of the ritual site stretched across the once-verdant valley like a festering wound. Where ancient trees had stood for millennia, now only blackened stumps remained, their charred fingers reaching skyward in silent accusation. The air itself seemed heavier, laden with the metallic tang of arcane residue and the bitter scent of ash. Not even the carrion birds dared approach this place of power and devastation.
Reed opened his eyes to this ruined landscape, his consciousness swimming back from whatever void had claimed it. Every nerve ending in his body screamed with unfamiliar sensation. His skin felt too tight, too sensitive—as if he had been flayed and poorly reassembled. Beneath his flesh, something pulsed with rhythms that did not match his heartbeat.
"You feel it too." Shia's voice came from somewhere to his right, a statement rather than a question.
