The deeper they went, the less the sanctuary felt like a ruin and more like a place deliberately preserved. The walls widened into tall corridors, lined with faded glyphs that pulsed faintly whenever their mana lights flickered past. The air was thick, damp, heavy with the weight of centuries.
Noel's boots crunched on dust that hadn't been disturbed in ages. His hand stayed close to Revenant Fang, every nerve on edge after the patrols they had slipped past. Beside him, Selene walked with her usual sharp posture, but he caught the way her eyes darted across every marking, absorbing each detail.
They entered a broad chamber that smelled of decay. Shelves lay toppled like fallen soldiers, their wood half-rotted, spilling books and scrolls into chaotic heaps. Some manuscripts had dissolved entirely into powder, others clung desperately to form, their ink smeared into black scars.
