Deep within the ruins, shrouded in dark green light, Asher remained in deep meditation, unaware of time's relentless passage.
Every breath he took was rhythmic, slow, and deliberate as he embraced the chilling embrace of death that lingered in the air. He felt each tendril of darkness coiling around his form like ancient serpents, filling his bones with mana long forgotten and lost to time.
Yet something else clung to the air—echoes of souls. Tens of thousands, perhaps even more. They lingered in twisted agony, suspended in the veil between realms, their cries too faint to be heard by ordinary ears.
But Asher heard them clearly.
They were humans—he could sense whatever was left of them. The anguished remnants of Skully's forgotten civilization. Souls scarred and broken by whatever tragedy took place, forever trapped in this forsaken place.
"Asher..."
Asher shuddered inwardly, suddenly feeling a weight upon his heart.
