The transition from the silver moonlight above the clouds to the suffocating fog of the Dead Marshes was like falling into a tomb. As Alaric descended, the air grew thick with the smell of sulfur and ancient decay. His wings, once powerful and steady, began to ache as the heavy, damp atmosphere pressed against them.
"Down there," Evelyn pointed toward a massive, curved structure emerging from the murky green water.
It wasn't a rock formation. It was the ribcage of an Ancient Dragon, so large that its bleached white bones acted like a natural fortress. Alaric landed heavily on a patch of semi-solid ground near the skeleton. His knees buckled, and he collapsed, his wings shivering before folding tightly against his back.
"This place..." Alaric coughed, his lungs burning. "The air is poison."
"Only to those who are purely human," Evelyn said, sliding off his back. She seemed unaffected by the toxic mist. She reached into her bag and pulled out two small masks made of dried leather and enchanted glass. "The gas here is the breath of the fallen. It's what keeps the Church's scouts away."
Alaric took the mask, but his attention was elsewhere. His chest was burning. The Chimera heart was beating frantically, vibrating with a frequency he hadn't felt before. It wasn't hunger this time—it was recognition.
"Evelyn... the heart. It's reacting to the bones," Alaric groaned, clutching his chest.
Evelyn's eyes lit up with a scientific fever. "Of course. The Chimera core I gave you was grafted with Dragon essence. It's sensing its kin. The magic in these marshes is ancient, Alaric. It's the perfect place to hide while I perform the next stage of your evolution."
She walked toward the dragon's ribs, her fingers tracing the runes etched into the bone by time and decay. "We aren't just hiding here. I need a piece of a dragon's lung. Your human lungs cannot process the amount of mana your heart is producing. If we don't find a preserved organ within the next two days, you will drown in your own power."
Alaric looked at the dark, bubbling water around them. He saw shadows moving beneath the surface—things that had lived in the rot for centuries. He realized that the Church was the least of their worries now. In this graveyard, they were the intruders.
"Is there anything left of me that you won't replace?" Alaric asked, his voice echoing hollowly inside the leather mask.
Evelyn turned back to him, the green mist swirling around her like a cloak. "Your spirit, Alaric. That is the only part I cannot stitch. But even a strong spirit needs a cage that won't break."
From the depths of the marsh, a low, guttural growl vibrated through the ground. Something was coming for them, drawn by the heartbeat of the intruder.