Seirion ran through the forest, guided by a trace of power he knew all too well.
He had followed that faint, flickering presence Erian's now mixed with something denser, older.
Something unnatural.
Something that should never have existed there.
With every step he drew closer to the forest's edge, where green earth turned to arid dust. The moisture in the air vanished, and silence took the place of the wind.
Then, a metallic, fresh scent struck him sharply.
The scent of blood.
Seirion froze for an instant, drew a deep breath, and then sprinted the last few meters. When he crossed the forest's edge into barren ground, he saw it.
Erian lay on the ground, collapsed, motionless, blood trailing in a thin line down his chest.
