The first drop of pure black nectar struck the petrified world-root ten feet away, sounding exactly like a glowing iron sword plunged into a bucket of ice water.
The heavy, viscous liquid hit the ancient wood with a violent hiss, instantly burning a deep, smoking crater into the surface.
Thick white steam curled upward, carrying the suffocating stench of sulfur and rotting earth.
High above the survivors, suspended in the absolute darkness of the primordial cavern, the colossal leviathan skeleton wept.
Thick, heavy drops of the world's dying blood gathered along the massive, jagged bone ridges of the creature's ribs, falling downward like a slow, erratic, and deadly rain.
Elara stepped to the front of the ragged group.
She raised her bare hands, her palms glowing with a fierce, golden-black heat.
She projected her dark aura outward and upward, forcing the ambient temperature around them to spike.
