As they walked, the blue sun crested the horizon, hanging there like a bubble that wouldn't burst, then rising with a surprising swiftness once it started. By what Zuberi estimated to be mid-day, the smaller, sharper disc of pale azure light had joined the dominant red sun in the sky. The dual illumination cast strange, elongated shadows, painting the desolate landscape in unsettling hues of violet and orange. The air grew warmer, but it was a dry, baking heat that offered no comfort, only sapped their strength further.
They had left the sparse bushland behind, and the terrain grew progressively more blighted. Gray, ash-like dust became a pervasive carpet, muffling their footsteps and rising in choking clouds with every gust of wind. The metallic tang in the air intensified, catching in the back of their throats. Zuberi maintained his vigilant lead, his heightened perception straining to pick out any immediate threats in the oppressive atmosphere. He realized that except for the mist, the longer they kept moving in the direction in which Lisa insisted they had to go, the more he felt they were back in the wraithlands.
The closer they drew to the amphitheatre, the more the land itself appeared to rebel against their presence. The air, thick with the acrid taste of metal and ash, pressed in on them, the dark aura of their destination, though distant, a weight on their minds.
"This place stinks," Hanz said, voice muffled by the cloth he'd tied over his nose and mouth. "Literally and figuratively."
Zuberi nodded, his own senses on high alert, nose wrinkled against the sulfurous smell. "We all feel it. Stay alert." He glanced at Lisa. "Still certain this is the way?" Despite his fighting it, he couldn't suppress a memory of Isabel, praising her god and his virtues, infinite mercy and vengeful retribution, how the unrepentant sinners would spent eternity in a place of fire and brimstone.
Lisa met his gaze. "Yes. The amphitheatre is hard to miss, even if we tried." Her voice was steady, but despite the smile lines at the corners of her eyes, the presence in the air distorted her tone into cold detachment. "It's drawing us in."
As the blue sun caught its red big sister, joining it in a rendezvous at the zenith, creating an eerie, shadow-less flat light, the signs of the Dreadwraith's influence became impossible to ignore. They were no longer subtle hints. They were stark, brutal statements carved in the land, using its blood for ink.
They came across a stretch of ground littered with ancient, rusted weapons, shattered swords, shields dented and torn, spearheads broken from their hafts. The metal was corroded almost beyond recognition, yet the sheer quantity spoke of a significant battle fought long ago. There were no bones here, no bodies, only the discarded tools of war, all covered in a thin layer of light-gray ash.
Further on, they found trees—or what had once been trees. Now, they were grotesque, sculptures of blackened, twisted wood, their leafless branches clawing at the sky like the tormented limbs of the damned. Many were split open, as if something had exploded within. A viscous, black sap, hard and brittle as obsidian, coated their trunks in places. Hanz, his usual commentary muted, touched one of the petrified trees. The shadows around his hand deepened and writhed in response. He snatched his hand back, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ, Liz," he said, stealing a glance at his sister. Zuberi followed his gaze. "Are you sure about this?"
Eli, silently on Shifty's back, whimpered, his small hands clenched tight in Shifty's downy feathers around her neck. "It feels so awful here," he said in a whisper, voice trembling. He looked at Zuberi, a flicker of determination in his wide eyes. "But… I think I can help. Maybe I can… push the bad feeling away a little." The boy had a constant fearful air to him, fidgety and ready to bolt. It was as if he expected to be kicked at any moment.
Zuberi looked at the boy, seeing the fear but also the nascent resolve. "If you think you can, Eli, try. But don't push yourself too hard." Eli nodded, closing his eyes. For a moment, the oppressive weight seemed to lessen, a tiny bubble of relative calm forming around them. But the respite was fleeting; the land's malevolence was too vast, too ancient, and it pressed back, extinguishing the small flicker of hope almost as soon as it was lit. The effort left Eli paler, and he sagged against Shifty, the creature's hide shifting to blend with the gray ash, making her a near-invisible guardian.
As the blue sun began its descent, casting long, eerie shadows while the red still blazed high, the landscape transformed into a final, horrifying tableau. Ash lay in thick, wind-sculpted dunes, like vast drifts of powdered bone, and the ground itself seemed to groan underfoot. Misshapen rock formations, resembling ugly sores, jutted from the earth. The metallic scent, now overpowering, mingled with a stench of decay that churned Zuberi's stomach.
And then, they saw it.
Rising from the blighted plains like the skeletal remains of some colossal, forgotten beast, stood the amphitheatre. Lisa had been right. Zuberi did not need anyone to point it out to him. It was a vast, circular structure of dark, weathered stone, much of it collapsed into ruin. Yet, even in its decay, it retained a sense of terrible grandeur. Tiers of stone seating, cracked and broken, rose towards the sky, enclosing a vast, bowl-shaped arena. The stones themselves seemed to weep a black, oily residue, and the air around it was visibly distorted, shimmering as if with immense heat, despite the bone-chilling cold.
A palpable wave of dread washed over them, far stronger than anything they had experienced before. It was a physical force, pressing down on their minds, their spirits, whispering of hopelessness, of futility, of the sweet release of oblivion. This was the voice that had invaded Zuberi's mind after he had consumed those damned iron-shell slugs. Amplified by a thousand. Lisa flinched, her hand instinctively going to the black pendant at her throat, a gesture Zuberi had seen her perform multiple times. Likely a soothing memento. Zuberi felt his own heart pounding against his ribs, the oppressive atmosphere making it hard to breathe.
"This is it," Lisa said, her voice low, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and despair.
Zuberi helped steady Eli, who had started to whimper, his gaze sweeping over the ruined amphitheatre, before searching Hanz's gaze. The young man swore under his breath, his hand instinctively going to his shadow-weapon on his thigh, resting there with its handle clasped in one hand. Eli buried his face in Shifty's feathers, his small body shaking. Shifty stood her ground, a low growl rumbling in her chest, multicolored eyes fixed on the dark entrance to the arena.
The blue sun was nearing the horizon, and the red sun, though still high, was beginning its slow creep towards its own setting. For some reason, this felt momentous.
Hanz spat on the ground and drew his shadow-weapon, the area around him dimming at once. "Let's get this over with."