Darius knelt beside a shattered crate, its dune fragments was bearing Vark's sigils, their jagged etchings was a testament to their greed, their pursuit of the zombie den's necrotic essence was a threat to the villages' survival.
The trio's Veilbane Medals were shining around their neck with their resolve that is been fueled by the memories of their hometowns' gratitude.
Valebreach's miners are now rebuilding the their broken cities while Duskfall's villagers are thriving and moving forward, Ironholt's survivors endured and survived the challenges and the trio's their beasts' bonds was a radiant flame against the Plains' darkness.
On day six, the Crest pressed deeper into the Plains, their path were guided by Master Mealin's map, its markings of safe routes and cult outposts was a constant reminder of the dangers ahead, the zombie den's threat was growing closer with every step.
