Back to Marquise Colombore's mansion.
The group slowly entered the ruin, which was once a huge mansion.
The sharp stench of blood grew stronger with every step, iron and rot mingling with the acrid bite of burnt stone.
Rubble shifted beneath their feet, crunching and grinding as their boots pressed shards of marble and glass into powder.
The hall was unrecognizable. Walls were no longer walls but merely concrete, somehow still standing despite their condition.
Gouges and slashes marred the stones—marks of spells and blades colliding in frenzy or at least being used on someone. Scorched craters pocked the floors where fire and lightning had struck.
Blood painted it all, slick and black in the moonlight, some of it smeared into handprints, some of it splattered into arcs that told of violent deaths.
Raven's eyes narrowed, its crimson glow slicing through the smoke.
