Levan rose and brushed the dust from his gloves, and Ilaria followed suit, gathering her cloak as she stepped closer. He caught the movement from the corner of his eye, the way she was trying to look composed when her boots sank unevenly into the glassy soil, and for a fleeting moment, something in his chest eased.
So determined. So herself, even here.
They reached the small cluster of knights gathered near the ward's southern edge. Their faces were drawn, eyes fixed on the ground where one of them knelt.
"What did you find?" Levan asked.
The knight shifted aside, revealing a shallow patch where the ash and crystal markings had failed to hold. Beneath it, something faintly glowed. A pattern carved deep into the glassy earth. It was not part of their circle. The lines were older, sharper, and etched with a precision that no human hand could match.
Levan crouched, his shadow falling across the sigil. "How deep?"
