The granite wall on the eastern border was forty feet high and solid. But to Velanor Banner, it felt like it was made of thin paper. The young earth mage stood on top of the wall, his boots stomped firmly on the stone. His hands were covered in dirt and dried blood. He pushed his internal core to its limit, constantly feeding his earth magic into the foundation of the wall to keep it from crumbling.
HISS!!
It wasn't a physical battering ram breaking his wall. It was the air itself. The tall, hundred-foot tidal wave of toxic black mist was pressing against the granite. The dark magic hissed loudly, eating the stone. It sounded like acid pouring over hot iron.
"The stone is rotting," Velanor gritted his teeth. Sweat poured down his face, freezing in the cold wind. "I can't hold the structural integrity forever. The mist is too dense."
