By the time the ferry scraped against the rough stone bank of Nekros Bazar, Haze was fighting sleep. His eyes stung, his shoulders sagged and his stomach twisted with a deep, hollow ache. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the boat slowed and the cold wind from the lower realm hit him, sharp and heavy like a slap.
He stumbled a little as he stepped out of the ferry, boots landing on the uneven ground of the lower realm. The air was different here, thicker and more humid, filled with a metallic tang that clung to the tongue. The sky above was darker than the upper realm, a deep bruised purple threaded with slow-moving streaks of red lightning far in the distance.
Nekros Bazar spread out before them like a sleeping beast. Buildings twisted out of the ground in sharp angles, made of black stone and rusted metal, their windows flickering with dim red or green lanterns. The roads were narrow and crooked, paved with uneven slabs that hummed faintly with traces of ancient magic.
