The scribbles glowed faintly in the gloom, as though the stone itself remembered the echo of magic
long vanished.
Ethan stared at the circle which was made on the dirty brick wall—a circle intertwined with jagged runes and intricate geometries, half-smudged where chalk dust crumbled away.
Black scorch marks spiderwebbed out from its center as though something had tried to claw its way into this world…and failed.
He knelt closern to the circle, fingers brushing over one of the curved sigils. It was cool and dry, but an almost electric tingle shot up his arm. It was quick by which it sent shivers down his spine.
"This…" he murmured, more to himself than to Reyna, "shouldn't exist. I've played that game for
years. Mapped every dungeon. Found every hidden script file. This was never there."
Reyna leaned over his shoulder, her braid swinging forward like a coiled rope. "Well, seems like
somebody tried ta summon somethin' nasty… but botched the bloody ritual, don't ya think so?"
