The crypt's stone doors rattled behind Adam. Torches burned along cracked walls, revealing overgrown spiderwebs. They glistened silver in the dim light, natural tapestries in a classroom that felt better suited for the dead than the living.
It smelled of dust and old corpses. Stone desks, carved like coffins, formed neat rows in front of a blackboard whose timber rim had been softened by decades of dampness. Drawn with chalk was a magic circle, the complete version of the half-finished one he had seen on the ground.
