The ridge descended into a forest older than any Seraphira had seen. Towering trees with black-barked trunks and blood-red leaves arched overhead, their branches so dense that even the morning sun could not pierce the canopy.
This forest isn't on any map, she murmured, her voice low, as though the air itself was listening.
Kaelreth's gaze swept the shadows between the trees. It is. The maps that matter. You just haven't seen them.
They followed a narrow trail, winding through the trees until the ground sloped upward toward a jagged shape on the horizon a ruin, its highest tower leaning as though bowing under centuries of neglect.
Even before they reached the base of the hill, Seraphira felt the hum in the air faint, like the memory of a song. It prickled against her skin, made the fine hairs on her arms rise.
This place is… alive, she whispered.
Kaelreth's lips curved into the barest shadow of a smile. Once, a coven ruled here. Witches strong enough to bind spirits, reshape storms, even challenge the Veil itself. When they fell, their magic did not die. It waits.
They reached the great archway that once must have been the keep's entrance. Half of it had collapsed, stones cracked and overgrown with black moss. The doors were long gone, leaving only an open maw into darkness.
As they stepped inside, the air cooled instantly. The sound of the outside world faded, swallowed whole by the oppressive stillness.
The main hall stretched before them vast, littered with shattered furniture and bones so ancient they crumbled at the touch. High windows stood empty, framing only the endless red leaves outside.
Why here? she asked.
Kaelreth glanced toward the vaulted ceiling where faint, twisting runes were etched into the stone. Because nothing dares enter this place without reason. Even the shadow from the Veil will hesitate.
He led her deeper, down a narrow corridor lined with more runes, these glowing faintly as they passed. The glow followed them, flickering like candlelight, as though the walls were watching.
Finally, they reached a chamber at the keep's heart. The floor was inlaid with a great circle of silver and obsidian, the metal still gleaming despite the dust.
This was the witches' anchor, Kaelreth said. A place where all paths of magic converge. It will mask us for a time.
Seraphira stepped into the circle, feeling the hum of magic sink into her bones. It was cold and warm all at once, a sensation that felt like it was peeling back her skin and seeing what lay beneath.
And in that moment, she thought she heard a woman's voice, soft and coaxing whisper her name from the shadows of the room.