The bushes rustled as Rune joined her, his expression tensing when he saw what waited below.
Khar Avalen rose in the distance, on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the roaring sea
No more than a ring of crude stone pillars like the fangs of a long-buried beast, a jagged and carved, eroded by time. At the center was a circular platform with some sort of small dome structure in the middle of it.
Clouds churned in the sky above, thick and dark, choking out all light. The ruins sat in a pocket of their own gloom. Yet what stood out weren’t the odd stone structures, but the vibrant carpet of crimson spider lilies spreading out like a shroud.
Blood Blooms.
“We’re here,” she whispered.
Rune’s warm hand slipped into hers, squeezing it gently, and some of her dread eased. Whatever waited for her down there, she wouldn’t face it alone.
Taking her waist, Rune lifted her gently and he sat her on Saeroth’s saddle before climbing up behind her.
They cantered down the hill together, mist curling through the blackened trees. The world was quiet, the atmosphere unnatural somehow, as if time itself had paused to watch them arrive.
Still.
Silent.
Heavy with the scent of decay and forgotten magic.
The ruins loomed ahead. As they drew closer, she saw they were massive slabs of stone, coated in desiccated vines and moss, the air around them humming with something ominous. The surfaces were carved with strange glyphs and cyphers, images of people kneeling to worship the moon.
It looked exactly as it had in the books she had read about Khar Avalen.
Except for one thing.
Spider lilies swayed in the breeze with a haunting beauty, emitting a scent that was both floral and metallic, like blood and burnt sugar. It made Alora dizzy.
Rune eyed them with disdain and wariness. “These blooms shouldn’t grow in the mortal plane. It’s impossible.” His voice dropped, rough with dread. “Yet they are thriving.”
They stared at the crimson flowers, glowing faintly in the dusk, clustered thick around the ruins like a warning.
“They have to be related to the Sleeping Curse,” Alora said. “The curse must have begun here.”
Rune didn’t speak as he guided them through the stones toward the domed platform. But the closer they rode, the clearer it became it was no dome at all.
It was a grate of crude metal and stone.
A window into the dark tomb beneath.
“This isn’t the entrance,” Alora said.
“No, but it’s near.” Rune looked to the cliffs and tugged Saeroth’s reins. There they found a set of worn steps carved into the stone, leading to the dark beach below. Gray waves crashed on the shore loudly, carrying the scent of the sea.
“We will have to go on foot from here.”
He dismounted, boots crunching on the gravel. He took her hand and helped her down. No longer needed, the demon horse dissipated like smoke.
“Nexus,” Alora peeked at the napping Vareth in her satchel. It peeked at her though sleepy eyes. “Perhaps you should stay here.”
Nexus made a curt pert sound and leaped out of the satchel, landing gracefully. He stretched, yawning through a meow and darted onward down the steps.
“I suppose he’s braver than us,” Alora said.
They watched Nexus vanish between one blink and the next, slipping through the world like he had found a seam in it.
