They reached the structure as the light began to fade again, not into night so much as into a dim, perpetual dusk that clung to this latitude of the world. Up close, the stone revealed itself to be neither carved nor assembled. It had been coaxed into shape, persuaded into angles that defied erosion and time.
Symbols lay embedded beneath the surface, not etched but suspended within the material itself, like insects trapped in amber. Lindarion felt them resonate faintly as he approached, not reacting to his mana so much as acknowledging its presence.
Nysha circled the perimeter with careful steps, her attention split between the structure and the surrounding basin. "This place hasn't been breached," she said quietly. "No fractures. No ritual scarring. If anyone's been here, they didn't get inside."
"That's because it was never meant to be entered by force," Lindarion replied. "Places like this respond to intent, lineage, or convergence. Sometimes all three."
