Not long after, Oliver reached the Ravine of Shattered Corpses. The terrain had become almost entirely barren. The earth sloped toward a colossal chasm that split the land from end to end, its edges jagged as though something enormous had torn them apart long ago. Wind drifted across the opening with a low, hollow murmur that carried no scent of life.
From where he stood, the ravine resembled the entrance to an endless grave, while pale forms embedded within the cliff walls stretched so far downward that the darkness eventually swallowed them from view.
Oliver shifted the unconscious youth from his shoulder before surveying the surroundings. A cluster of weathered boulders rested several dozen metres away from the ravine's edge, partially concealed behind a slanted rock face that shielded the area from casual view. It was secluded enough that wandering Puppets would be unlikely to notice anyone resting there unless they deliberately searched the vicinity.
