Outside the dimension where Erend and Eccar fought, the forest began to change.
The sky darkened unnaturally, as if the sun itself had recoiled in fear. Clouds loomed above. It looks thicker and blacker than any normal storm cloud, swirling in slow menacing spirals.
The wind howled through the broken trees with an eerie voice like something alive and angry. Thunder cracked, not just from the sky but as if it echoed from beneath the ground. Something ancient had awakened and the forest could feel it.
Far from the ruined temple, in a clearing surrounded by half-collapsed trees and torn soil, the adventurers who had been thrown clear by the rift's surge began to stir.
The first to rise was Jan. He groaned, pushing himself into a seated position with effort.
His head rang and his limbs felt heavy as lead but he was conscious. Beside him, Mark was already sitting upright, one hand pressed to the side of his head as he looked around, his expression tight with unease.
