choes of the Past
The crisp air of the Shadowlands had faded into a dull hum, and Marcus could feel the lingering sense of unease in the air. His footsteps were now more purposeful, and the heavy weight of knowledge he'd gained from the altar felt as if it had fused with his very being. But the clarity was tempered with an awareness that his journey was only just beginning. The Compass of Fate pulsed softly in his palm, its needle pointing him forward.
As he continued walking, he began to notice subtle changes in the landscape around him. The strange, ethereal fog that had once surrounded him now seemed to dissipate, revealing an expanse of wide, barren plains. The terrain was desolate, dotted with cracked earth and scattered boulders. But in the distance, a flicker of light caught his eye—a faint glow rising from the horizon.
