Every moment spent in that unhallowed hellscape was a struggle to remain sensible.
What I experienced was beyond trepidation-the place pressed on me, like skeletal fingers were squeezing my scalp.
What had been done to the lands in that wheel was profane, a debasement of creation itself.
Something was unmaking the natural order, melting it to fix into unholy new forms for some unknowable end.
Bad enough that those poor sky-people had been massacred, but we could see now that all their generations of endeavor had been undone, from horizon to horizon.
Nida was inconsolable, not that I was in any shape to give comfort.
Not with that metronomic drone in my head, throbbing against my resolve.
You know what you need to do, it said.
I brought you back into this world.
I can make you whole, if you just do as I command.