Chapter 22 Mirages Of Malice

• The narrow path leading from the Great Elders soon dissolved into a stark, desolate landscape: the Whispering Wastes.
• It was a place of unsettling silence and perpetual twilight, where the air hummed with a low, disorienting vibration. Gaunt, skeletal trees clawed at the perpetually overcast sky, and the ground was a patchwork of cracked earth, dry scrub, and shifting sands.
• A thin, sickly yellow mist clung to the horizon, making distances deceptive and shapes indistinct. This was the realm where illusions reigned, where trust was shattered, and where the mind became its own enemy.