The circle of life was growing.
Slowly. The gentle, golden-green light from Sylva spread outwards, a steady wave of renewal. It pushed back the deathly gloom, turning the hard earth into rich soil. The patch of vibrant green grass expanded from twenty feet across to thirty, then forty. Everywhere the light touched, life followed, a beautiful carpet of green spreading across the dead land.
It was a steady, truly unbelievable miracle.
And it was starting to attract the wrong kind of attention.
From the grey mists of the Scar, the tormented shapes of the Sorrow-Walkers turned. Their pained, jerky movements became focused. There was no rage in their approach, no predator's charge. They were simply all moving in the same direction - towards the growing oasis of life.
"Hostiles incoming, ten o'clock!" a Temple Knight barked, his voice sharp with alarm.
SHING!
