The desert is also spreading. Even without the siphon, the wraiths continue to scatter the sands. Their progress has been slowed a hundredfold, but their patience is ageless. The wastes have already reached the low foothills bordering the north and south, and spread east into Haun and the lowlands of Slank. The Spiral still consider it a loss, however, and do not consider it to be of any remaining tactical importance. Ir'Heon has fallen from grace.
There is no native life. Even the hardiest of plants are consumed by the desert, and most creatures that wander into the hardpan are swept away by the sand wraiths. These wraiths are the spirits of those once trapped within the Collector, now twisted by madness and grief, trying to hurry along the end of the world so they can finally rest. Sand wraiths appear during powerful sandstorms, forming blurry, faceless humanoid silhouettes. They destroy equipment, kill or drive away mounts, spoil food and water, and otherwise cause no end of grief to those attempting to traverse these blighted lands. The sandstorms in this region echo with their horrific cries, a chorus of suffering that can strike a person dead with fear.