The Lycan King's Captive
And there, in the center, was a sight that made my breath catch.
An ancient altar, weathered by time but still clearly visible. Dark stains marked the stone, centuries of sacrifices made in this place.
And growing around the altar's base, fed by blood-soaked ground, was Crimson Moss. Rich red, almost luminous, covering the north-facing stones.
I approached carefully, every sense on high alert. This felt wrong somehow, like I was trespassing in a sacred space.
But I needed the moss. My patients would need it.
I knelt beside the altar, reaching for the moss, and the moment my fingers touched it, the world exploded with light.