The twelfth day bled gray light across the plains. No birds sang. No insects stirred. The silence was off. Salaris's wings snapped open mid-flight, as a sudden shiver coursed through his frame. His shadow-feathers flared like knives as he screeched down to Kelvin.
"Snare sigils and dozens of it." His voice was raw with an alarm. "It was etched into stone and into the bark… everywhere."
Kelvin's heart lurched as he turned, and there they were—blackened spirals that were carved into a crooked oak, their grooves pulsing faintly with green light. The runes breathed like wounds.
Lyra's hand flew to her dagger, her eyes were narrowing. "Veil snares and the cult has been here." Darius spat onto the cracked soil with his knuckles white around his hammer. "Cowards' tricks but tricks can kill all the same."
Rhoam rumbled deep in his chest, with nostrils steaming. The armored beast's horns glowed faintly as if it was rejecting the very air they breath.
