The Obsidian Plains stretched out before them, a vast expanse of shattered rock and glinting black glass that reflected the crimson-tinged sky. The land seemed to ripple and shift as though alive, its surface fractured by deep fissures that emitted faint wisps of toxic vapor. A palpable tension filled the air, the Void's corruption here more oppressive than anything they had yet encountered.
The Guardians paused at the edge of the Plains, their expressions grim.
"It looks worse than I imagined," Henry muttered, his shield slung across his back as he surveyed the terrain.
"Worse than it looks," Elara replied, her grip tightening on the Codex. "The corruption is strongest here. The Plains are constantly shifting, and the creatures that roam them are... unnatural."
"Unnatural seems to be a theme lately," Morgana said dryly, though her eyes betrayed her unease.