The words hit him like a physical blow. Ever since he had arrived on this planet, every piece of information—from Snow's data streams to Vladimir's apocalyptic plans—indicated that Kraken was a dead end. It was a terminal anomaly, a corrupted, bleeding rock destined to be harvested for billions of souls to feed a dead God. The concept of life returning to this world, of the dark energy being purged to restore natural flora and fauna, was something he had never even considered possible.
The low-tier creatures continued to murmur in reverent tones around the fire, but Kyle had heard more than enough.
Slipping backward into the deep shadows of the ridge, he deactivated his Shadow Walk, his mind racing with a million new questions as he navigated the dark terrain back to the basalt cavern. He stepped inside the narrow entrance, tossing the leather pouch of Lunar Mist Snails onto the stone floor with a dull thud.
