Steve grunted softly as his eyes swept across the scorched horizon of the town of Mirrors.
The wind carried with it the scent of ash, the bitter tang of dried blood, and the sour stench of rot. Once a thriving town, Meru now lay in pieces—reduced to shattered beams, burnt stone, and charred memories.
The cliffs that boxed the settlement in bled dark stains where creatures had fallen—or been dragged screaming to their deaths.
Yet Steve stood in silence, half-crouched in the cover of a thorny bush. His gaze cut across the ruined landscape, searching for something—.
Strings.
He was looking for them again.
'Just one… just one string would've been enough. That's all I need to know they're close.'
But there was nothing. The breeze shifted, ruffling the dying grass, but no strings stirred.
Steve narrowed his eyes.
'Damn it. If there are no strings, then they're not here.'
It was a relief. And a disappointment.
