In the mountain range north of Ravenfell, something insidious was taking shape, something that would shape the fate of the continent, and perhaps… the world itself.
Gerald, Berger, and Blackie had arrived at the final battlefield to assist Balthazar and Nylian in slaying the last two remaining cultists.
But the moment they set foot on the ground, they knew something had gone wrong.
The two cultists… Axar and Ramsay… they were behaving very strangely. They had gruesome injuries on their bodies—just like Balthazar and Nylian—signifying how brutal their battle had been.
But something seemed off about them…
The light in their eyes had been replaced by something dark and insidious. It was almost as if… as if their bodies were no longer their own. They had become mere puppets on unseen strings. Their movements were sluggish, mechanical, like marionettes dancing to another's will.
