The morning sun crept over the horizon, casting long shadows across the Crimson Wastes as Lyra, Victor, and Sylvia continued their journey eastward. The desolation of the landscape seemed endless, with dead trees and dry, cracked earth stretching as far as the eye could see. The air was still, an eerie silence enveloping them, broken only by the crunch of their footsteps on the brittle ground.
The journey had been arduous, each step taking them deeper into the wasteland. The land itself felt hostile, as if it resisted their presence. Sylvia walked beside Lyra, her eyes alert, her senses keen to any movement in their surroundings. Victor moved slightly ahead of them, his eyes scanning the horizon, his hands ready to cast a protective spell at any moment.
"This place is so quiet," Sylvia murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's like the whole world is holding its breath."
