At least, not like any I’ve seen elsewhere in Eldoterra.
It’s an interconnected series of towers—open walkways and verandas and bridges peek through the thick fog like webbing, crossing over and cutting around the center space… where a garden appears to lie.
A centuries-long neglected garden, but a garden all the same.
It’s in the same wild and dilapidated state as the grounds before the citadel entry. And like the front, veilflower vines climb pillars, smother grass, and cling to walls… but there isn’t a singleveilflowerin sight.
My senses sit on the edge of a blade as I tread along the veranda beside Ryc in silence. He called this place a fortress… but it doesn’t feel or look like one.
It’s too open.
Too…pretty.
Even in its current state.
A quick tingle races down my spine and I shudder against it. A wash of near transparent blue-silver sweeps past on my left and I freeze. Ryc does the same.
It’s a rather ghostly apparition, comprised ofthousandsof old magic runes rippling across the entity’s surface, giving it its person-like shape. Skirts swirl around invisible feet and it dons a long, trailing veil, hiding away any facial features.
It whisks by Eve and, startled, she leaps to the right, into Cyran. His hands fly, catching her as he too notices the creature.
“What in the nine hells is this?” Eve asks in a fierce whisper asher wide eyes swing to us. She quickly turns back to the entity, watching it venture farther down the corridor.
I scoff a soft laugh in disbelief. “It’s an old magic construct.”
It turns as it reaches for the door at the end of the hall and pulls it open with little difficulty. While I cannot see a pair of eyes beneath the flowing veil, Ifeelthem on my skin.
“Were these here during your last visit?” I ask, unable to tear my eyes away from the construct.
“No,” Ryc says in a low voice with a shake of his head.
With a breathy, incredulous laugh I rove ahead, eager to study the runes.
“Ves,” Ryc calls, following in my wake.
“They’re harmless, Ryc,” I say with a quick glance over my shoulder. “Near sentient servants. Shaped Aether spelled to fulfill specific roles determined by the caster. Gods…” My pace slows as I draw close. “The rune casting required for such a thing is complex… taxing… it’s far easier to create undead constructs.”
“Undead constructs burn out with time,” Ryc says as he steps in beside me.
“Yes.” I nod. “They do. Even if a skilled necromancer preserves their work with the right rituals, they last a decade at most. This though… these constructs stand against eternity—as long as there’s Aether.”
Of which there’s no shortage here.
The construct releases its hold upon the door and dips into a flawless curtsy as I study its face. So manytinyrunes dance and flow across her, shimmering like the surface of sunlit waters. And while there are no apparent eyes in the face of this creature, Ifeelthem upon me as it—she—stares back.
“And you know all this how?” Eve asks, keeping her distance with a wary, roaming glare.
“Despite being a more than proficient bloodmage, I’m a less than mediocre old magic caster,” I say with a wry smile. “But I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of these constructs. I never dared attempt to create one though. Not in the hells…” I trail off.
The construct gestures with a sweeping hand through the door. Not wanting to spend the rest of the day lost in the entity’s runes,I listen.
“Seeing this, I might understand how the ghost stories of Illa Ysari started,” Cyran says and he and Eve follow.
As Ryc and I pass through the door, I lift my chin, and colored lights blaze to life. Stories above, a stained glass dome depicting the night sky caps the round room. Stars glitter in silver, red, and yellow and the universe swirls with various shades of deep blues and violets, cresting pink in places. The white walls, floor, and pair of thrones in the center of the room are washed in indigo.
Movement from atop a throne catches my attention as a sharp caw cuts through the room. The white raven bobs its head, crying again as I stop in my steps.
It sits, staring at me with its blood-red eye.
