And as the last fused corpse fell, ichor steamed against the sigil-lit dirt, the Crest were left gasping, half-kneeling among the smoke.
The snares flickered, dimming but they had not been defeated. The runes still hummed, faintly and steady, while promising more.
Kelvin wiped blood from his lip and forced his spine straight. "This is not just a trap," he said. "It is a message. They are ahead of us and they want us broken before we ever reach them."
Salaris dove low, with its wings slashing. Each feather that was heard away necrotic vines that had begun snaking toward Lyra's legs, their green tendrils snapped like whips. She looked up, gasping gratitude before plunging her daggers into another zombie's chest.
The battlefield was a chaos of green fire and shrieks. Every move they made seemed answered by the snares that was bending space against them.
