They found Ekatarina sitting under a massive tree that Jorghan didn't remember being there before. It was clearly ancient despite its apparent recent appearance—a trunk easily fifteen feet in diameter, with branches spreading wide enough to shade an area the size of a small building.
The leaves were deep crimson, so red they seemed to glow in the afternoon light. The branches were black as obsidian, creating a stark contrast that made the tree look like it had been painted rather than grown naturally. And the ground beneath it was covered in fallen red leaves that rustled despite the lack of wind.
Ekatarina sat cross-legged at the tree's base, her cerulean blue skin seeming to shimmer in the crimson-tinged shade. Her white eyes were closed, her breathing slow and rhythmic, suggesting meditation or communion with something Jorghan couldn't perceive.
