Selindra stepped forward, boots sinking slightly into the blackened snow. She knelt by the archway, brushing ice off a section of the script with her glove. Her lips moved silently as she traced the patterns, brow furrowing.
Lucen tilted his head. "Can you even read that?"
"Not fully," Selindra admitted. Her voice was flat, but her eyes stayed locked on the script. "Fragments. Old tongue. Warnings. Binding. Something about—" She stopped.
Lucen raised a brow. "About?"
She looked up at him, and for the first time since they'd met, there was hesitation in her eyes. "Consumption."
Lucen chuckled, low in his throat. "Lovely. Guess we're the entrée."
Varik didn't move. He simply studied the archway like he was staring down an opponent. His voice came quiet but firm. "How do we open it?"
Selindra shook her head. "That's the problem. It doesn't open. Not normally. The seal isn't mechanical, it's alive. Feeding off the abyssal bleed."
