The ruins breathed, in a way the should not have.
The Titan they were inside was dead.
So not like a living thing—no rasp of lungs or pulse of blood—but in the way old stone sighs when it settles, or how rusted gears groan when forced to move again.
The air was less oxygen and more Blight, a oily haze that clung to Kael's tongue and made every breath taste like licking a battery.
Lira tugged her Duskwyrm cloak tighter, the iridescent scales repelling the worst of the corruption. Without it, her skin would've blistered by now.
Kael didn't bother with his. The Blight here felt… familiar. A static hum in his veins, not quite pain.
"Remind me why we're doing this again?" Lira muttered, picking her way through a corridor choked with crystalline fungi. The growths pulsed faintly, reacting to their presence.
"The Heart," Kael said.
