Meanwhile on an empty stretch of scorched grasslands, where the air felt thick, almost stagnant.
Darius knelt in the center of his followers o the Divine God of light and order (the priesthood guild), his white, gold and yellow robes fluttering faintly in the listless wind.
The artifact he carried, a glowing crystal embedded in a compass like object dimly pulsed, struggling to maintain its radiance.
"The curse is here," one of the acolytes murmured, their voice trembling.
"Or it was." he continued
"It's not gone," Darius said calmly.
His gaze swept over the terrain, lingering on the faint scorch marks across the brittle grass.
"It's merely hidden. We were led here for a reason." he said
His old age not hiding the wisdom in his eyes.
Behind him, Vera paced restlessly.
Her spear held in her hands as her fists clenched and unclenched, her irritation bleeding into the very air around her.
