The sun was drowning in the white sands of the desert, and the murderous heat that had been tormenting them before was slowly dissipating, soon to be replaced by a terrible cold.
And the chilling terror of the coming night.
The battered group of humans was making its way to a towering ruin. The two Saints were holding up well, but the Ascended were in a dire state — all of them bore vicious wounds, and each step was torture.
The only healer among them was unconscious, and the Memories with restorative enchantments that some of them possessed were not powerful enough to deal with the multitude of severe injuries, at least not immediately.
Jet looked slightly better than she had during the battle with the vessels of the Guardian — she managed to kill a Nightmare Creature that ambushed them as they traversed the desert, and absorbed some soul essence. Still, just glancing at her mangled body was a bit chilling.
