Ava: Corrupted Whispers

The snow ends in a perfect line, as if someone took an eraser to the landscape. Beyond that boundary, the earth lies bare and lifeless. No grass, no moss, not even the hardy winter plants that usually peek through frozen ground. The soil itself looks wrong—ashen and cracked, like the bottom of a dried riverbed.

"I've never seen it this bad." My boots crunch on the dead earth. Each step sends up little puffs of gray dust. "Even the insects are gone."

The corruption is absolute here. Grimoire's fox form prowls beside me. It's consumed everything.

My bodyguards hang back at my insistence, though I sense their unease. Marcus keeps shifting his weight, uneasy despite his experience in these matters.

A wave of corruption rolls over me, and my stomach heaves. The taint feels different here—thicker, more concentrated. Like wading through tar instead of water. The dead zone stretches as far as I can see, pulsing with that sickly energy.