The journey to the Obsidian Fields began before sunset.
Zuriel had given them a warning before they left Alsheem.
"Do not underestimate the Fields."
His crimson eyes had remained fixed on Amaris.
"They are not a cemetery. They are where the remnants of countless demon souls gather after death."
Amaris had tightened her grip around Phelan's sword.
"And I need to take it there."
"Yes."
"To feed it."
Zuriel's expression had darkened.
"To awaken it."
Now, hours later, the group stood before the Obsidian Fields.
Amaris stared at the landscape. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. A vast black plain stretched endlessly beneath a crimson sky. Thousands of jagged obsidian pillars rose from the ground, some reaching hundreds of feet into the air. Thin mist crawled across the land.
But the strangest part was the silence. There were no screams. No howling. No sounds of battle. Only an eerie whispering that seemed to come from everywhere.
