When they finally emerged from the Vault, the air was different.
It was dry, sharp, almost metallic, and the gentle warmth of Lorienya's roots was gone. What replaced it was wind, sweeping up from a barren expanse that stretched endlessly toward the horizon.
Above, the canopy of the forest had thinned to pale gold light, and beyond that, the edge of the desert glimmered like the dying breath of a sun.
The transition had been sudden. One moment they'd been beneath the veins of the earth, the next they stood at the mouth of a canyon where the last roots of the World Tree twisted into petrified stone.
Ashwing blinked in the sunlight and squawked. "What happened to the trees?!"
"They ended," Lindarion said quietly, eyes narrowing as he scanned the dunes. "This… is where the world forgets to breathe."
Nysha stepped forward beside him, squinting. The wind whipped strands of her dark hair across her face. "Desert terrain this close to Lorienya shouldn't exist. Not unless something—"
