The air shifted the moment Tatiana and Elda stepped into Mictlan. The temperature dropped sharply, and a biting cold seeped into their bones.
The Black River stretched before them, winding through the dark, barren landscape like an obsidian serpent. Its surface was unnaturally still, reflecting faint ripples of silvery light that seemed to originate from nowhere and everywhere at once.
The sky above was a vast expanse of muted grays, swirling with wisps of shadow and faint glimmers of light, like dying stars struggling against the void.
The faint sound of whispers carried on the wind, soft and unintelligible, as if the air itself held the echoes of the souls that once roamed here.
Tatiana took a cautious step forward, her heels crunching against the dry, cracked ground.
The land surrounding the river was barren, devoid of vegetation or life. Jagged rocks jutted out like the bones of some ancient, long-dead creature.
