Chapter 373. The Queen of Eastonia

The twisting sensation in my stomach is at a peak as my boots crunch over glass, then something… crackly in a thick, nauseating way that leaves me totally unsettled. I pull my foot back and look down then let out a sigh of relief. Not a bone. Not someone’s mangled arm. Just someone's old cloak, I think.

I look over my shoulder at the fog rising from the river that separates Rifthold from the Roguelands. We crossed the river this morning by boat, and it had been a perilous, rocky ride, to say the least.

The way my legs tremble as I carefully pick my way through scattered debris has nothing to do with the treacherous journey across the river, however.

Ryatt is standing a few paces in front of me talking to Westfall in low tones, Granger at their side. The early morning fog is beginning to lift, showing the devastation of the once great, but evil, lair of Kane and his forces.

I truly destroyed everything. I really did. Rifthold is nothing but