By late afternoon, the sky above the mountain had darkened, despite no signs of storm. Clouds spun slowly overhead in unnatural spirals, circling the jagged peaks like birds too afraid to land.
Argolaith led the way now. His stride was steady, his eyes fixed on the craggy slope ahead.
None of them spoke.
They could feel it.
They weren't just nearing the ruins.
They were nearing something that had been waiting.
The mountain's foothills leveled into a flat outcropping of old stone, broken but walkable. Just beyond the edge, buried beneath cracked slabs and crawling vines, rose the shattered archway that had once led into the ruins where Argolaith and Kaelred had first crossed paths.
It hadn't changed much—on the surface.
The same collapsed columns. The same sunken chamber, half-exposed by time.
But something was different.
The stones hummed now.
