A pall of dread settles over the fellowship as they gaze upon the frozen villagers, their final moments etched in horror. Dark deeds have shattered the stillness of this remote hamlet, the veil between worlds torn by an act of unspeakable violation. Distant and close at once, Linnea finally responds to Salim’s appeal.
“What we see before us is no ordinary disease,” she intones grimly while weaving intricate signs with gnarled fingers. “Life itself stands extinguished among these frail shells, now untenanted save by tormented spirits bound to a hellish scene.”
Kneeling beside one contorted elderly woman, Vera murmurs prayers softly through brimming tears. Her trembling hand reaches to pass a comforting caress over the corpse’s rime-crusted brow... then recoils with a hiss of profound violation. Rearing back in smothered disgust from the dread sensation of *nothingness* beneath that flesh, she cries “Their very souls have stolen away into the void!”