It was the stillness, Atzar decided. Aside from the freezing cold and the poisonous haze and the fact that he could only see roughly a stone’s throw in any direction, it was the stillness that unnerved him most. Up on that ridge looking down into the valley, there had been wind; frigid, but wholesome. It spoke of movement and life. Dragon’s Folly harbored nothing but death and decay, and the surrounding mountains blocked out even the tiniest breeze. His personal air pocket allowed him to breathe, but tendrils of toxic fog still caressed every inch of exposed skin. Chills of revulsion shot up his spine, and he jammed his hands deeper into the folds of his thick gray cloak. He questioned the revenant’s plan. He was a wizard, and with the title came myriad useful tricks. But if the stories were correct, and the mist really did turn the afflicted into zombies… he didn’t have a solution for that one. He could only hope that his bubble was barrier enough to keep him human.

Doubt and regret grew in his mind with every step. Perhaps William never intended for him to make it out of the valley alive. The mage served a purpose: getting him into the Realm of Pestilence. Perhaps the mutant knew that Atzar would fall somewhere in this abyss. Most likely, he didn’t even care. William didn’t have a reputation as a sweetheart, after all.

The slope gradually leveled out as they reached the bottom of the valley, but the dragon’s corpse was still a considerable distance away. They passed a pool of viscous, green liquid. He had heard of the substance; Green Sap, it was called. It emanated from the rotting remains of Arztschlange; whether flesh, blood, entrails or some combination thereof, the mage did not know. It didn’t look precisely as he had expected. The mention of ‘green acid’ had brought to mind brightly-colored, bubbling goo, but this stuff was just sludge, pungent and inert; more like pond scum than the science experiment he had envisioned.

Useful in the right hands, but Atzar was no chemist. He walked on, giving it a wide berth.

William held up a hand, signaling a halt. The wizard took a long, grateful breath from his air bubble to calm his nerves. Then he listened, and after a moment his ears picked up the reason for their pause. A faint, rhythmic shuffling noise broke the stillness. The wizard knew the reputation of this place, of the guardians of the great dragon’s final rest. They had no friends here; he grimaced and steeled himself for battle.

He peered into the gloom, a whiwlwind of thoughts raging in his mind. Part of him observed clinically, waiting to discern ‘what’ and ‘how many’ so he could work out a plan of attack. But the other part, the more human part, watched with only dread, knowing that whatever emerged from that mist could very well be his future.