[VOLUME 15: THE PRIMORDIAL PILGRIMAGE][ARC 4: THE ILLUSIONS OF WHITE ASH]
Pangea was a world composed entirely of jagged edges, but as they crossed the crest of the obsidian ridge, the jaggedness abruptly ceased.
Before them lay a forest that did not belong in a broken world.
The air shifted, the metallic scent of chaos and burnt ozone melting away into the intoxicating, sweet aroma of blooming jasmine and ripe peaches. The ground beneath Elara's boots transitioned from cracked, punishing rock to a carpet of impossibly soft, emerald-green moss. The trees were magnificent, their trunks gleaming like polished silver, with leaves that shimmered in shifting hues of blush and gold.
A gentle, crystal-clear stream meandered through the center of the grove, singing a soft, melodic tune as it flowed over smooth, pearl-like stones.
"It's... beautiful," Elara whispered, the exhaustion that had been sitting heavy in her bones for weeks suddenly lifting.
