Zane trudged through the forest, branches snagging at his cloak and dirt caking his boots. The woods stretched endlessly around him, and the sun dipped just low enough to start casting long shadows.
He groaned. "Nyx, how long have we been walking?"
Silence.
"Nyx?"
Still nothing.
He frowned. "Okay, what gives? Don't tell me you're sulking again…"
Nothing.
Zane huffed. "Oh come on. You're literally just a glorified compass right now. Not like you're busy."
There was a sharp pause, and then:
"Excuse me?" Nyx's voice cut in, cold as frost.
Zane flinched. "Uh—look, that came out wrong—"
"A glorified compass?" she repeated icily.
"I meant that in the most magical, super useful, best-compass-ever kind of way!" he said quickly.
Silence.
He sighed. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. You're more than that. You're... my sentient, incredibly sarcastic best-friend system who saves my life sometimes and probably deserves a shrine."
A pause.
"Hmph," she muttered, clearly still annoyed.
"Nyx…" he said sheepishly.
"…Apology accepted," she grumbled, softer now.
Zane smiled faintly and relaxed his shoulders. "You're the best. Even if you still act like a grumpy squirrel."
"I'm ignoring you again."
"Nooo—!"
Thunk.
He tripped on a stone, stumbling forward and landing flat on his face.
"Ow…" he groaned, brushing dirt off his cheek—and then froze.
The stone he'd tripped over wasn't just a root or boulder. It was carved.
"Nyx…"
"I sense it too," she said, all sarcasm gone. "There's something here."
Zane knelt down, brushing moss and soil from the surface. Ancient symbols pulsed faintly with a deep violet hue. He looked up and around—realizing the trees here were thinning, giving way to crumbled walls and towering stone fragments overgrown with vines.
A massive, broken archway loomed ahead, half-swallowed by the forest.
Zane blinked. "I think we found something."