The eastern border of Solaris was unrecognizable. It used to be a lush, green valley dotted with merchant outposts and stone watchtowers and was now a dead wasteland. The grass had not just died; it had turned to gray ash. The stone towers were pulverized into gravel. The sky above was a suffocating, unnatural shade of bruised purple, blocking out the warmth of the morning sun.
Velanor Banner stood on the edge of the broken boundary line. The young earth mage wore his tough leather armor, his boots stomped firmly in the dead ground. He had survived the mountain pass. He had crushed a swarm of Aberrations by dropping the cliff on them. But as he looked out at the eastern horizon, his callused hands began to shake on their own. This was not a swarm of mindless beasts.
