The carriage wheels rolled over the ground, no longer making a crisp, clattering sound, but a grating, viscous squelch.
The atmosphere inside the carriage was peculiar.
If Eternal Oath City was silk spritzed with expensive perfume, then this place, the fertile Forest Sea, was a thick stew with too much honey, simmering over a raging fire. It was cloyingly sweet and overpoweringly fragrant, but underneath the rich, fruity aroma was a faint, lingering stench of rot.
"Velin, be a dear and close the window," Caroline said, covering her mouth and nose with her folding fan. Her brow was furrowed. "Why does it smell so strange here?"
Velin didn't do as she asked.
Instead, he pushed the window further open, letting the air—a mixture of life and death—pour into the carriage.
The scene outside was nothing short of absurd.
