CURSED BY MOON, BOUNDED BY BLOOD
chapter 39
The group emerges from the cavern into an otherworldly landscape. The air is heavy with mist, swirling unnaturally around them. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting an eerie silver glow over the barren, lifeless terrain. In the distance, jagged black spires rise from the ground like the teeth of some ancient beast. The shard in Lily’s hand vibrates faintly, glowing brighter as if guiding them forward.
Grimalkin
(serious, scanning the horizon)
“No tracks. No signs of life. But it feels... wrong.”
lily
(softly, clutching the shard)
“It’s the magic. The Vale is steeped in it—death, despair, everything the wraiths thrive on.”
Patrick places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but his eyes betray his own unease. They start moving forward, the shard pulsing rhythmically as it leads them deeper into the vale. The mist thickens, and faint whispers begin to surround them.
The whispers grow louder, forming faint, overlapping voices. Each one is distinct, yet none are intelligible. Grimalkin’s ears twitch, and it suddenly halts, its fur bristling.
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