As Yval departed the Necropolis, the Herald could barely remain upright. Fire raged beneath her skin, each breath a raw scrape against her lungs. The curse of the Golden Dragon Progenitor gnawed at her endlessly… pain so absolute that even her limitless regeneration offered no relief. In truth, it was because her body repaired itself without end that the torment never ceased.
Yet she neither groaned nor cried.
Instead, the Herald threw her head back and laughed—a wild, unhinged cackle that echoed through the empty cave. Every flicker of agony was a reminder that she had inched one step closer to her ultimate goal.
"Yval, oh, Yval… Leaving the Necropolis is your mistake."
The Herald puckered her lips in satisfaction as she dragged her battered body toward the yawning mouth of the colossal cave. Every movement left smears of shimmering blood along the stone, yet she crawled forward with an almost reverent eagerness.
