The deeper the trio moved through the forest, the thinner the presence of Ghouls became, and the less mist they had blocking their vision.
They crossed a thin stone bridge that arched over a stagnant river choked with black lily pads and skeletal arms reaching from the depths. After nearly an hour of weaving through roots thicker than Ember's body, they saw it.
The Ruin, a hollow dome of ancient black-stone. Half of the ruin was already swallowed by the ear, and the other half was covered in vines, skeletal trees and veins of corrupted mana.
In the center of all of that was a Gate, a colossal arch of obsidian and silver, the frame of it etched with runes that shifted between different ancient languages.
The stone around it was cracked and burned, as though something had tried to tear its way in, or out.
