The quaint surroundings of her childhood village provided brief comfort before the coming storm. Liora knew dire corruption now festered behind the benign veneer of timber homes and bustling marked stalls.
As she walked the winding path to Periena's stone cottage, memories flooded her senses. The scent of freshly baked cinnamon bread from her mother's bakery down the lane. Whispers and laughter from furtive lovers in the meadow thickets. Periena herself humming softly while tending the gardens, emanating warmth and wisdom.
But as the cottage came into view, all familiar comforts vanished. The plants were withered and blackened, the cottage warped as though in a dark reflection. Hostile energy weighed down the air, thousands of mute screams echoing just beyond the veil.
Liora steeled herself, pushing open the warped door with sword drawn. The interior was cloaked in shadow, rows of forbidden tomes and artifacts looming around Periena's hunched form. She hovered over a sinister text pulsating crimson light, spidery black tendrils snaking from the pages twining up her arms.
"Mistress of darkness..." rasped Periena, her voice now hollow and haunting. She half-turned with a hiss, revealing a face drained of warmth and vitality. Behind her coal black eyes a void swirled, feasting slowly on her living essence and leaving a soulless husk.
Liora faltered briefly, anguish cracking her stoic facade. This corruption was far worse than she had steeled herself for - the Ashen Grimoire had consumed almost all that was human within Periena. Perhaps only oblivion could bring her peace now...