The northern border feels like crossing out of the world entirely.
One moment there is wind. Grass. The faint shimmer of lunar magic at our backs. The next, we step forward and everything stops. The air thins. The temperature drops without warning. The ground loses color. The sky dims even though the moon still hangs above us, fractured and flickering.
The deadlands stretch ahead, pale and cracked like old bone left under harsh sun.
No scent.
No sound.
No magic.
Just emptiness.
And underneath it all, a faint hum. Barely audible. Barely real. But constant. Like something too large to comprehend is breathing far beneath the ground.
I take a step, and the soil flakes under my boot as if it was made of fragile ceramic. Jax follows close behind me, his hand hovering near my hip, ready t
