The steps were slick with mist and shadow descending.
Serena stepped ahead, her boots clattering softly on the ancient obsidian. The staircase twisted and turned like a corkscrew dragged from the bowels of the earth, each step a memory unto itself. Lucian and Elias followed after her, weapons raised, eyes sharp. The villagers held up on high, gazing over the ridge like stars in the distance.
It was quiet.
Not empty — just holding its breath.
The deeper they ventured in, the hotter the air grew. Heavy and moist, it fell against their skin, as though it hadn't been touched in centuries. Frosted veins of silver and gold ran through black rock like thin networks of ancient circuitry, a glimmering in the walls. Faces raced over the stone — pictures that went by too quickly to name. Some wept. Some smiled. Others only stared.
Serena touched one. A woman in armor. Her eyes blink and then vanish.
Lucian watched. "This place remembers."
