Astensia's cry energized everyone, filling their veins with adrenaline and hearts with vigor as the vanguard burst through the gates and into the devastated town.
Lancet's boots pounded on the ash-choked ground as he surged behind others, his armor hung against his lean him, humming and clanking as he ran.
The first sensation he felt the moment he crossed the threshold was an eerie cold, and then an abrupt heat. The temperature had dropped and spiked simultaneously. Lancet knew instantly that it was from the miasma, remembering the novel describing the yucky substance as deathly cold.
The heat, meanwhile, was coming from the burning buildings.
Lancet looked up and around at the town. His eyes stretched wide, completely out of words for what he was seeing.
Hebthej was a corpse wearing a town's skin.
The street beyond the gate had once been a respectable merchant thoroughfare. Now, the cobblestones had black sludge oozing between the cracks like diseased veins.
