The King’s Bath

The sun had barely begun its ascent when the first changes in the abyss-touched field became apparent.

Riven stood at the edge, arms crossed, watching as the air above the soil shimmered faintly. The crops, infused with abyssal energy, pulsed with an unnatural vibrancy. Already, tiny sprouts had begun to push through the earth, some of them dark-veined, others radiating a faint glow.

"They shouldn't be growing this fast," Mal murmured, his silver eyes scanning the field with open fascination. "Even with the temporal distortion, this is… accelerated."

Riven didn't respond immediately. He could feel it—the subtle pull of the land, the way it reacted to his presence. The Abyss had not only claimed this soil, but it had also begun molding it to his will.

"They're growing," he finally said. "That's all that matters."