Cain arrived under a sky the color of a rotting bruise once he stepped out of the rift in space.
This stretch of wasteland has been created from the expansion of the world, laying comfortably between the abyssal chasms and Valestorm.
The camp lay sprawled beneath the bleeding sky.
It was still and quiet. Too quiet, almost. Uneasy murmurs drifted, their intensity increasing when their eyes spotted him, most wondering how he had appeared out of nothing all of a sudden.
Then some eyes recognized him and the whispers intensified.
Those aware of his position raised questioning brows.
What was he doing here?
Indeed, what was he doing here, Cain thought to himself.
Something was settled here. Something foul. A tension that clung to the back of his neck like sweat.
He sucked in a deep breath and relished it. To remind himself that whatever decision he made was not going to be easy.
His eyes narrowed as he slowly scanned the vicinity.
A crowd was slowly forming around him.
