The mountain pass was a knife's edge between sky and abyss.
Twenty soldiers marched in tight formation behind Liam, their armor muted to avoid alerting Radiant Empire scouts. Koth led the vanguard, Zara the rear, and Varg ranged ahead like a hunting hound searching for threats.
They'd been walking for a day and a half, and the landscape had grown progressively more hostile. Not from enemies – those they could handle – but from the land itself.
Ashard was called the Burning Peaks for a reason.
Volcanic vents punctured the mountainside like wounds, bleeding heat and sulfurous smoke.
Rivers of cooled lava formed black scars across the terrain. The air tasted of copper, thick enough that human lungs would struggle after hours of breathing it.
Demon lungs adapted. Liam's... were somewhere in between.
