Brittle Earth and Broken Spells

The ground crunched beneath my boots, creating an unsettling texture that made me question if I were stepping over the bones of the fallen. Fortunately, there were no bones beneath my feet, just the uneven earth that seemed leeched of any life, any moisture, and of course, any mana that would flow through it. It was just brittle dirt that had long since given up any chance of holding against the supernatural forces of the scar. It wasn't just the ground that gave me pause, but the air as well, it all felt wrong, like the air I was breathing was different from that outside the scar. The air had a disarming flavor, like when you left water out for days on end and went to go refresh yourself, only to taste the orgy of bacteria and stale liquid that dwelt within your glass.