An arch rose before them, carved from a stone so pale it seemed to glow faintly under the torchlight. Its surface was untouched by the erosion that had devoured the rest of the ruins.
Etchings spiraled across the arch in deliberate patterns, circles nested within circles, jagged crescents curling around serpentine lines. The serpent spiral was there again, but changed. Here, its fangs pointed outward, not inward. A ward, not a devouring.
The humans stopped short. Some muttered prayers, others pressed fingers to charms strung about their necks. The commander drew a sharp breath, eyes narrowing.
"This… is no village," he said grimly. "This is a tomb."
"No," Nysha murmured, shadows curling faintly around her ankles. Her crimson eyes traced the arch, the runes biting into her gaze. "Not a tomb. A temple."
The torchlight caught the hollows of her face, making her seem carved from the same stone. "They worshiped here."
The soldiers shifted uneasily.
