Wildwood: The veins of the earth
The ceiling rose high above them in a dome shape, and in the center stood an ancient altar, overgrown with creeping white vines that pulsed with faint bioluminescence.
Around the edges of the chamber, eight doorways yawned open—portals leading deeper into the ruin. Each one was marked with a symbol: Tree, Fang, Wave, Eye, Flame, Root, Mask, and finally, Void.
Emily’s breath caught. “I know this place.”
“You’ve been here?” Elias asked, his voice hushed.
She shook her head slowly. “No. But it knows me.”
Clara walked toward the altar, scanning for traps, glyphs, anything that might suggest this was another false hope. But what she found was worse.
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