Maybe it was because in this place there was only twilight, that it made it seem as if time had stood still, or maybe it was the ash that was now so thick that it was nearly impossible to see for more than twenty feet except you had high perception, but more Siphons were dying than was being noticed, and all of this was adding up.
When the Healers began to fall, the tide of calamity was fixed, and at the moment, only a miracle could change it.
But the gods were dead, and there were no more miracles than those that could be found inside their veins.
Previously, the rain of elemental and occultic attacks had lit up the skies, especially when the talents of the candidates were increasing, and they had been the first line of defense, and for hours, they had been bombarding the spawns, burning, freezing, shattering, and melting them.
But the spawns kept coming.
