Lloyd had experienced the specific effects of this new skill firsthand—nine times in a row, in fact.
And each time, the sights he saw, the whispers he heard, and the temperature and atmosphere he felt against his skin grew clearer and more real than the last.
Lloyd couldn't help but recall the last time he had encountered a foul ritual.
It had happened over two hours ago, inside a warehouse at a freight train station in the West City District. The moment Lloyd walked in, he felt as if he had been plunged into a bloody Purgatory.
He saw that the ground beneath his feet was covered in heaps of skeletons and severed limbs, all of them warped by some strange force into indescribable, grotesque shapes. They stretched on endlessly to the very edge of his vision, like tangled threads weaving together a massive tapestry.
Standing amidst it all, Lloyd felt like a tiny drop of ink, unable to grasp the full picture.
