Pathfinder.wrath.of.the.righteous.v2.1.0w-gog.t... File

The air in Drezen didn't smell like a city; it smelled like wet iron and burnt sulfur. High atop the citadel's battlements, the Knight-Commander stood alone. Below, the banners of the Fifth Crusade snapped in a wind that shouldn't have been there—a draft pulled directly from the Abyss through the festering sore of the Worldwound.

"You're brooding again," a voice chirped. It was Seelah, her golden armor reflecting the sickly purple light of the horizon. "We’ve taken the city, Commander. The people are celebrating. You should be down there." Pathfinder.Wrath.of.the.Righteous.v2.1.0w-GOG.t...

"They're celebrating a reprieve, Seelah, not a victory," the Commander replied, looking at their hand. Veins of glowing light pulsed beneath the skin—mythic power, a gift or a curse from a source no one quite understood. The air in Drezen didn't smell like a

"Every choice has a cost," the Commander whispered, recalling the cryptic warnings of Areelu Vorlesh, the architect of this entire nightmare. "You're brooding again," a voice chirped

"Then let's make sure it's a cost we're willing to pay," Seelah said, resting a hand on the Commander’s shoulder.

Across the wasteland, a roar echoed—not from an animal, but from the very earth itself tearing open. The crusade wasn't over. It was just beginning.