The corruption grew worse with every step.
Karathra led the masters through terrain that seemed to twist against them, the very ground resisting their passage. The air was thick with essence so dense it left a metallic taste on her tongue. Colors were wrong here, the rocks too dark, the sparse vegetation too vibrant, everything slightly off in ways that made her eyes ache.
They had been traveling for two days since leaving the Hive Fiend's corpse behind.
Two days of pushing through increasingly hostile territory, rationing their supplies, tending wounds that refused to heal properly in the corrupted environment. Drakira was recovering, but slowly. Every single one of them was having a hard time.
Only Lady Pelica seemed unaffected, gliding through the corruption as if it were a pleasant afternoon stroll.
"We're close," the enchanter announced, consulting whatever internal compass guided her. "The meeting point is just beyond that ridge."
