Day merged into night, and night into day.
The Black Waste stretched around them without end.
The land was a vast expanse of dark soil, barren and silent, as if the world itself had been dipped in ink.
No birds sang.
No streams sparkled.
Only the occasional wind swept across the wasteland, carrying with it a dry whisper that seemed to say the same word again and again.
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
Fortunately, Gustave was large enough that Sienna could lie down on the wooden platform when she became tired, her body rocked gently by the steady motion.
In her previous life, she had seen buses and trains carry passengers across entire countries.
Now, she was riding an undead crocodile through a cursed wasteland.
Life truly had a sense of humor.
They traveled along an ancient stone road paved with broad slabs fitted so tightly together that even after countless years, the surface remained remarkably level.
