Ren stepped onto the first stone path, his boots making no sound against the blackened rock. The air was thick, heavy with a pulse of magic that seemed to flow from the very ground. Shadows twisted around him, reacting almost like living tendrils to his movements. He could feel the energy of the land pressing against his mind, testing his focus even now.
Rivers of molten light carved through valleys below, their surface glowing with colors that seemed impossible. Hues shifted from deep crimson to molten gold, and reflections danced across the cliffs like fragments of a broken sun. Jagged peaks rose at impossible angles, some suspended in midair, held by currents of raw mana.
The wind carried whispers he could not fully understand. Some were faint echoes of conversation, others like distant roars. He did not falter. Each step was measured, each movement calculated. Shadows curled along his arms, ready to lash out at anything the land might throw at him.
