The wind blew through the gaps of the peaks, dry and heavy, carrying the smell of rust and blood.
Sometimes, it even picked up droplets of blood that dripped down from the mountaintops, scattering them through the air.
Daniel and Drael carefully moved along the narrow path that cut through the rocks.
"I don't like this… and seriously, who built a path like this? Why the hell does it never end?" Drael muttered under his breath.
Daniel briefly glanced up at the jagged peaks above
.
The snow was red, not from the sunset, but from veins of blood flowing down from the summits, dripping across the rocks like a dried-up river.
At first, he hadn't even noticed the snow, it had looked like nothing but blood from a distance.
But now that they were closer, he could see it: the snow beneath the blood.
"We should be there soon. I checked with my spiritual senses, ten more minutes at most," he said, not looking back.
