landscape changed as time went on: flowing, twisting, corrupting. The dull sheen of tainted metal shining through everywhere.
In the trees, roots, animals, and even the mountainous valleys that had always been an oasis of difference.
Still, our dragon continued, untainted and resolute, soaring above.
There would be a home yet, a sanctuary, a place for all those not given in to this singular invading force that was misshaping the world.'> The Chronicles of the Pale Moon, 66:1'>