Chapter 116

Chapter 116 Marcus The Eastern Wastes had never been kind, but today they were cruel. As we pressed toward the Needle of Yreth, the land twisted beneath our boots like something alive. The soil, once ash-grey and brittle, now pulsed faintly with heat, veins of molten crimson running like blood just beneath the surface. Trees—if they could still be called that—twisted up from the ground like skeletal hands, their bark blackened, leaves shriveled into thorns. The sky had changed too. It wasn’t just overcast—it was wrong. Clouds moved against the wind. Lightning cracked in complete silence. A second sun—or the illusion of one—hovered on the horizon, flickering in and out like a dying candle. “This is what happens,” Ruvan said beside me, “when something tries to overwrite the laws of creation.” I tightened my grip on my sword. “And this... is just the beginning?” He nodded grimly. “It’s rewriting the land. Soon it will try to rewrite us.” I didn’t like the sound of that. Not one damn bit.