With Dona slung over his shoulder like a lifeless doll, Manu took one last glance at the field, satisfied with his work.
But as he turned to depart, his keen senses picked up an eerie presence lingering nearby. Following it, he traced a narrow, winding path, utterly barren and twisted, where once-thriving flora had withered and blackened, contorted as if by invisible hands. Poison seeped through the soil itself, leaving a harsh, acrid scent in the air that stung even Manu's senses.
Trees stood shriveled and gnarled, their bark turned to ash, leaves hanging limp and mottled as if drained of life. Vines slumped in tatters, clinging to each other like the broken threads of a web.
Manu's eyes narrowed as he gazed upon this ruin. He needed no further confirmation; he recognized the effect instantly. The trail of poisoned life, of lingering, palpable despair, could only mean one thing. This was the work of Knight Sheyi.