The trail revealed itself on the fourth day. Dante found the markers exactly where his regression memories said they would be: subtle carvings in the crystal formations, symbols that looked like natural formations unless you knew what to look for. They were Sylvani pathfinding marks, ancient beyond measure, pointing toward a destination that hadn't been accessed in centuries.
'Still here,' he thought, tracing one of the symbols with his finger and feeling the deliberate nature of the carving. 'After all this time, still pointing the way.'
He followed the markers deeper into the wastes, leaving the main travel routes far behind. Here the crystal formations grew strange, twisted into shapes that suggested intelligence rather than nature, and the ground itself seemed different, older, marked by patterns that almost looked like writing. The dungeon was close, calling to the Ancient Core in his chest like primal energy resonating with something ancient and powerful waiting ahead.
