Veyra had decided to sneak off to go find the mirror stone on her own. Unknown to her Lioren had seen her and followed through. The entrance to the ruins of Fenwyre loomed before them—massive, vine-draped pillars carved with glyphs older than any spoken tongue. Veyra felt the air shift as she stepped across the threshold. It was like walking into memory. The stone beneath her bare feet pulsed faintly with a magic not her own, yet not entirely foreign either.
Lioren trailed her, favoring his right leg where an earlier skirmish had left a nasty gash. His hand never strayed far from the hilt of his blade, but even steel felt pitiful here. The walls hummed. The shadows moved. Whispers crawled along the edges of Veyra's thoughts.
They were not alone.
"Veyra," Lioren said softly, "are you sure this is it?"
She nodded, eyes tracing the runes above a shattered archway. "It calls to me. The Mirror Stone is here. I can feel it... like a pulse under my skin."
He didn't argue. He never did. Not w
