A fluctuation.


    Again.


    The Watcher remained still, yet his senses sharpened, attuning to the anomaly.


    The Deadlands were still—they had been for centuries. The flow of mana here was residual, stagnant. A graveyard of power, untouched and long since settled.


    Then, the first disturbance.


    A flicker of unexpected movement—too brief, too chaotic to be anything significant. A rogue current, perhaps. A shift in old enchantments. It was noted, but not deemed worthy of concern.


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    Yet now, a second fluctuation.


    And this time, it was stronger.


    Two disturbances in short succession.


    A single flicker was a fluke.


    Two?


    A pattern.


    <hr>


    He extended his awareness, tracing the ripples through the dormant land. The disturbance originated in the Deadlands—amidst the lost ruins.


    Why there?


    The ancient desert had long since been avoided. Whatever it had once held, it was now buried under time and decay.


    Guarded by Warped Creatures, Mana Storms, or worse.


    Or so it should have been.


    <hr>


    The Watcher’s focus narrowed.


    Something was shifting in that region.


    The mana was not merely reacting—it was stirring.


    That was enough.


    This would require further observation.


    And, perhaps…


    Intervention.