"...."
With excruciating effort, Robin raised his head.
His eyes were veiled beneath a film of darkness, as though his tears had thickened into tar. Blood seeped from every crevice of his skull, and yet each drop carried with it a suffocating, negative aura that clung to the air like smoke.
Anyone who looked upon him would have thought him a corpse already, a man murdered by the most merciless means imaginable.
And yet… he could still see.
Robin forced the Eye of Truth open. Its golden light, normally sharp and piercing, now flickered weakly, struggling against the oppressive haze. Barely, just barely, it pierced through the black fog enough for him to glimpse what he sought. And there she was…
The Shepherd of Specters.
She stood upon a small hill no more than a thousand meters away, her silhouette distinct even amidst the gloom. For someone of her might, that distance was nothing.
