From the Ashes

Chapter 8 ~ Crumbling Ruins

The first strokes of dusk had touched the land when they reached the outskirts of the crumbling city. Morana stared at the overgrown landscape with dread smothering her lungs. There could be Corrupted Fae lurking in any of the remaining structures or lying in wait behind the mountains of rubble that had once been grand buildings.

"It's worse than the last time I saw it," Arlon remarked, a hint of sorrow lacing his voice.

"If you follow this main road, it will lead you straight to the palace," Lonan said to Morana, ignoring the male's comment.

He pointed to the street in front of them. It was littered with potholes, chunks of fallen stone, and trees and brambles that had managed to grow through the once smooth cobblestones.

"Here." Once more, he drew the dagger from its sheath at the back of his waist. Lonan pressed it into Morana's hand and closed her fingers around its hilt. Then, he unfastened the sheath and buckled it around her hips. "You'll need it."

"Are you sure you can't come with me?" Morana asked. Though she hadn't known the males for more than a day, their presence now was somewhat comforting.

"Rehema said the path ahead is for you alone," Lonan replied. "But we'll camp here until sunrise. If something happens within that time and you need us, find a way to signal us and we will come. In the morning, we return to the village."

Morana nodded with a sigh and sheathed his dagger. "Thank you for your help anyway." She inhaled slowly and squared her shoulders, facing the city once more.

Just before she set off, Arlon spoke. "Rehema sent a small group to your village to bury the dead. She herself was going to attend to your aunt and uncle."

Morana froze, a familiar burn nipping at her eyes. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and glanced over her shoulder, bowing her head gratefully. "Give her my thanks," she said, and began walking.

She didn't look back even once. She kept her gaze trained on the shape of the palace in the distance. She'd make it there before the moon had risen, but she'd be exploring the castle in darkness.

Briefly, Morana wished she'd thought to insist on camping with Lonan and Arlon and head to the castle in the morning, but it was too late now. Besides, something told her Rehema had known it would be this way. That's why she'd encouraged them to hurry to the ruins.

Morana brushed the thoughts aside and wound her way through the street, taking care not to trip over anything. If the legends about the Sleeping Heir were to be believed, the entire city was filled with traps meant to keep folk from reaching the castle. Morana lit a ball of magic in her palm and used it to shed more light over her surroundings.

When she finally felt confident enough to remove her gaze from the path beneath her feet, she let herself take in the sights of Arcan. Everywhere, there were signs of the former greatness of the city. Chunks of marble even taller than her littered the street, some still bearing parts of stunning mosaics.

Gargoyles had broken off of their perches and lay strewn about in scattered pieces. She could still make out the shape of scales that had been individually chiseled onto the body of a dragon. Most of the buildings lacked windows, but every now and then, she'd spy the remnants of stained glass and couldn't help but wonder what images they used to depict.

There were moss covered statues that she could tell were of the goddesses, and god. In the center of a large square, there was a vast marble fountain. It was filled with murky water and floating leaves, but she could picture it as it might have once looked.