THE VEIL OF TWENTY MOON
On the horizon, a single jagged formation appeared—a stone fang jutting from the earth.
“That’s the Marker,” Azhura said. “The Vault lies beneath.”
As they approached, the ground trembled. Symbols began glowing on the stone fang, spiraling downward like a staircase carved by ancient hands.
Lyra clutched her weapon tightly. “Is it supposed to do that?”
“No,” Azhura whispered. “It’s opening for us.”
The sand collapsed inward, forming a wide pit that spiraled into a dark tunnel. The air that rose from below was cold, unnatural, and filled with a distant hum—like countless whispers layered atop one another.