The ground tore apart beneath their feet with an apocalyptic rumble. Luminescent cracks slashed through the earth, devouring the ruins like a web consumed by burning embers. Cliff leaped backward, narrowly avoiding a fissure from which molten stone shards erupted.
"Look!" Mathilde shouted, pointing at the sky.
The golden scar now stretched to the horizon, its darkened edges vibrating like the taut strings of a harp. On the other side, indistinct shapes stirred—titanic silhouettes with shifting contours, grotesque creatures bristling with countless mouths and arms.
Cliff froze, his muscles tensed. It was the first time he had seen such entities, and their mere appearance sent a deep unease through him.
"What are those things?" he asked, a shiver running down his spine.
"Creatures of the Fissures," Mathilde replied, her voice strained. "Be careful, they are extremely dangerous."
