The winds over the Blighted Plains carried no comfort. They howled through the jagged remains of the Spire, now reduced to ash and shadow, and swept across the broken earth below. The land bore the scars of its destruction—twisted trees, lifeless soil, and the faint glow of green mist that clung to the ground like a sickness.

Far from the ruins, hidden deep within the haze, a faint light pulsed in rhythmic intervals. It illuminated the outline of an ancient structure—a weathered outpost long forgotten by time. Cracked stone walls stood defiant against the encroaching decay, though vines and rot had claimed much of its surface. The air around the outpost shimmered unnaturally, as if reality itself bent under the weight of unseen forces.

Inside, the corruption was stronger. The faint glow of runes carved into the stone walls hummed faintly, casting eerie light onto the crumbling floor. Shadows flickered across the room as a presence stirred—a faint whisper, no louder than a breath, yet piercing in its intent.

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“Come closer…”

Beyond the outpost, the spreading corruption reached further into the world with each passing day. Nearby towns, once thriving and full of life, fell silent under the creeping influence. Crops withered in the fields, and wells ran dry. Those who ventured too close to the mist often returned sick—or not at all.

In Greystone, whispers of the Blighted Plains had begun to spread, carried by travelers and merchants who spoke of strange lights and shadowy figures moving through the haze. Fear hung heavy in the air, and even the bravest among them dared not linger too long.

But some threats could not be outrun.

And so, as the Thorned Sisters prepared to leave the safety of the town once again, the echoes of their past weighed heavily on their minds. The Spire was gone, but its legacy remained—a shard of power, a fragment of devastation, and a burden they could not escape. The choices they had made, and those yet to come, would shape not only their futures but the fate of the lands they called home.

For the Plains would not stop. The whispers would not quiet. And in the heart of the corruption, something ancient had awakened.