The silence was thick—oppressive.
Dust drifted like ash across the ruined southern district of Tynoon. Shattered towers leaned against each other like broken giants. The scent of scorched stone and blood lingered heavy in the air.
Mystica stood tall, eyes still aglow, body trembling from the immense drain of what she had unleashed. Her cloak barely clung to her shoulders, and bruises ran like ink along her arms and ribs. She waited.
But something beneath the rubble shifted.
No… grew.
The ground pulsed. The stone cracked—not just beneath Barbara's broken form, but throughout the entire district. Roots slithered up through the shattered cobblestone, writhing like serpents. The air grew thicker, tainted with an earthy, primal energy that reeked of corrupted life.
Then—
BOOM.
