Burning

The squelching sound grew louder, adopting a hypnotic rhythm. A deep vibration emanated from the black puddle, as if the ground itself was pulsing. Hildanor abruptly pulled away from his companions, his sword already in hand despite his trembling grip.

"Defensive formation!" he growled, his rough voice carrying through the ashes.

Vador unsheathed his dagger, the milky glow of its crystal contrasting against the creeping darkness. Mathilde, however, did not move. Her pupils had turned into thin golden slits, scanning the horizon with supernatural intensity.

"This is not residue…" she murmured. "It's an incubation. Be careful."

The word echoed like a curse.