Chapter 387 Ava: Corrupted Whispers

The snow ends in a perfect line, as if someone took an eraser to the landscape. Beyond that boundary, the earth lies bare and lifeless. No grass, no moss, not even the hardy winter plants that usually peek through frozen ground. The soil itself looks wrong—ashen and cracked, like the bottom of a dried riverbed.

"I've never seen it this bad." My boots crunch on the dead earth. Each step sends up little puffs of gray dust. "Even the insects are gone."

The corruption is absolute here. Grimoire's fox form prowls beside me. It's consumed everything.

My bodyguards hang back at my insistence, though I sense their unease. Marcus keeps shifting his weight, uneasy despite his experience in these matters.

A wave of corruption rolls over me, and my stomach heaves. The taint feels different here—thicker, more concentrated. Like wading through tar instead of water. The dead zone stretches as far as I can see, pulsing with that sickly energy.

To the wolves, they only see dead land. But it's so much more than that.

Glancing at Grimoire, who's focused on the corruption, I ask, "How am I supposed to handle this? The purification usually takes over once I start. I've never had to stop it before."

It's about will and control. You must maintain awareness of your limits.

"That's not exactly helpful." The corruption beckons, a seductive whisper promising power. I've felt it before, but never this strong. "What happens if I can't stop?"

You must. His mental voice carries an edge of steel. Or the taint will consume you as surely as it's consumed everything else.

The dead earth crunches beneath my feet as I take another step forward. The boundary between life and death is so stark—winter's white giving way to corruption's gray.

"I need specifics, Grimoire. How do I cut it off when it gets to be too much?"

same way you control any magic—through force of will. You must remain conscious of your

that I don't understand what he's saying, it's just that it's

buckle, but I force myself to stay upright. The taint wants in—wants to corrupt my magic

"If I fail—"

Grimoire looks up at me with his unearthly fox eyes. But you must start

She's far back, too,

the ashen ground, and a shudder ripples through me at the wrongness

to

I can do this.

surges forth before I finish the thought, eager and hungry. The corruption rushes in—thick, viscous, choking. My stomach revolts as

as a

drawn to my magic like a magnet. It tastes of rot and decay, filling my mouth with the flavor of death. It's a new experience I could do without;

I double over, one hand pressed to my mouth, the other still connected to

Pull back.

to pull

magic refuses to listen. It wants to consume all the corruption, cleanse every inch

Grimoire's voice cuts through the haze. Focus. You

shake as I fight to stay upright. Sweat drips down my face despite the winter

wracks

it. Grimoire's mental voice carries steel. You are stronger

consume everything. My magic reaches for more, eager to purify, to cleanse. Like two sets of personalities inside of

again. Tears stream down my face as I retch, the taste of bile mixing with corruption's decay. But I keep my hand pressed

Small.

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