The shamans worked through the night.
Owen watched from the settlement's edge. Twelve of them—drawn from all three clans, with Elder Moss coordinating—moved through the eastern territory in a systematic patterns. They weren't burning the miasma out. They were dismantling it, finding the anchor points where contamination had rooted into the local mana structure and removing those roots one by one.
Slow and precise work.
By dawn Owen was almost fully recovered. The formation's ambient output was clean. His system pulled everything available through the passive resonance field.
Elder Moss found him at first light.
"You look bettee," the old wolf-folk said, sitting beside him. "The eastern section is done. The settlement takes longer."
"How long for full cleansing?"
"Another day. Maybe less." He looked at the formation. "The Remembering's pulse rate is increasing."
"We will leave tomorrow morning."
