The city stretched endlessly before Calder, a labyrinth of ruins swallowed by time. He stood in the middle of a wide avenue, the cracked stones beneath his bare feet weathered and uneven. Dust hung in the air like a ghostly haze, and the faint smell of earth and decay lingered in his nostrils. The buildings that lined the street were skeletal remnants of a forgotten age—stone facades crumbling, roofs long gone, their frames jagged against the pale moonlight that bathed the sky.

  Calder turned slowly, taking it all in. The silence was oppressive, thicker than any stillness he’d ever known. It was as if the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for something—or someone—to disturb its eternal slumber. He took a cautious step forward, his footfall muted against the dusty ground.

  “What is this place?” he murmured, though his voice sounded distant, swallowed by the vast emptiness around him.

  He began to walk, his footsteps echoing faintly as he made his way down the street. The buildings loomed above him, their shadows long and unnerving. Some bore faint traces of what they once were—doorways lined with eroded carvings, shattered windows still clinging to fragments of colored glass. Others were little more than piles of rubble, their walls toppled and consumed by creeping vines.

  Calder’s gaze wandered upward, drawn to the dark night sky. Above him, the moon took up much of the sky, almost as though it were an eyeball looking directly at him.

  As he walked, a strange feeling settled over him, a mix of awe and unease. The sheer scale of the city was staggering, and yet it felt utterly lifeless. He couldn’t shake the sense that he was being watched, though when he turned to look, there was nothing there—just the empty ruins stretching into the distance.

  After what felt like hours of wandering, Calder came upon a massive building at the end of the avenue. It stood apart from the others, its towering columns rising unbroken against the pale sky. Unlike the rest of the city, this structure showed no signs of decay. The stone was smooth and pristine, and a faint light flickered within

  The air inside the building was cool and still, carrying a faint metallic scent that made Calder’s skin prickle. The room he entered was impossibly vast, the ceiling so high it vanished into shadow. Massive statues lined the walls, their marble forms glowing faintly in the dim light.

  Calder moved closer to one of the statues, his gaze drawn to its delicate features. It was a woman, her face serene yet solemn. A blindfold covered her eyes, its fabric sculpted with such precision that Calder could almost feel its texture. Her hands were outstretched, her fingers reaching for something unseen.

  He moved to another statue, then another, noting the similarities between them. Each was a woman, blindfolded, their expressions ranging from sorrow to defiance. Some knelt, their heads bowed as if in prayer, while others stood tall, their hands raised as if shielding themselves.

  “What is this place?” Calder whispered, his voice echoing faintly.

  The farther he walked, the more statues he passed. Each one seemed more intricate, more lifelike than the last, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were aware of his presence. The silence pressed heavier against him, and the faint flickering light grew brighter as he reached the far end of the room.

  There, carved into the wall, was a massive relief. Calder’s breath caught as he took in the scene.

  The carving depicted a table that stretched endlessly into the darkness on either side, its surface laden with goblets, platters, and intricate decorations. Around the table sat countless figures, their postures filled with energy and joy. Some raised their cups in revelry, others leaned close to one another, their faces frozen in expressions of delight. At the center of the table, a figure stood mid-dance, their arms raised gracefully.

  Above the table, a veil hung like a shimmering canopy, dotted with pinpricks of light that glittered like stars. At the very top, presiding over the scene, was a woman. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves of starlight, and her face bore a calm, serene smile.

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  Calder felt a strange warmth in his chest as he looked at her. It wasn’t joy, exactly—more a sense of peace, as though everything in the world was exactly as it should be.

  As he reached out to touch the carving, a chill ran down his spine. His fingers brushed the stone, but before he could react, he felt something behind him—a presence, cold and unyielding.

  “Go to the ruins of Ashuk to the east,” a voice whispered, soft and melodic, yet so close it felt like a breath against his ear. “And all will be revealed, my dear child.”

  Calder spun around, his heart racing, but there was no one there. The room seemed darker now, the statues casting long shadows across the floor.

  Before he could call out, the ground beneath his feet began to crumble. A sudden weightlessness seized him as he fell, the statues and the carving fading into blackness above him.

  ***

  Calder woke with a gasp, his body jolting as if he were still falling. His hand shot out instinctively, gripping the branch beneath him as the world snapped into focus. The rough bark dug into his palm, grounding him as his chest heaved with shallow, rapid breaths.

  The moon hung high above, its silver light filtering through the canopy of trees. Bits of snow and pine fell from branches as he pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the erratic pounding of his heart.

  “What was that?” he whispered to himself, unsure as to what he had just witnessed.

  The dream—or whatever it was—lingered in his mind with vivid clarity. The city of ruins, the statues, the carving... and the voice. His spectral arm glowed faintly beneath his cloak as he stared down at it, the blue light pulsing softly in time with his heartbeat. It looked brighter than it had been before.

  “Ashuk,” he said aloud, the word slipping off his tongue. He had never heard the name before and just thinking about it gave him blank thoughts yet… it felt strangely familiar. It was thought something deep inside of him was reacting to the words because he couldn't explain otherwise.

  “Go to the ruins of Ashuk to the east, and all will be revealed.” he repeated in his mind as he looked up into the forests around him. “And do what?”

  As he thought about the words spoken to him, the sound of snow crunching echoed from underneath him. Calder froze, his eyes and ears honing in on the source. The faint rhythm of footsteps reached his ears, accompanied by the occasional murmur of low voices. Carefully, he leaned over the side of the branch, his dark eyes scanning the forest floor below.

  Three men passed beneath him, their movements clumsy and unsteady. Thick furs hung off their shoulders, stained with mud and patches of something darker. One of them stumbled slightly, nearly losing his footing in the snow, and the others laughed—a harsh, guttural sound that carried in the stillness of the night.

  They were drunk, that much was clear. The man in the lead carried a bottle in one hand, the liquid inside sloshing as he waved it around theatrically. “You should’ve seen the look on that guy’s face,” he slurred, his words spilling out with exaggerated cheer. “Thought he was gonna piss himself!”

  The man behind him, shorter and stockier, snorted. “Bet he did when you and Jarik gutted him,” he said, his voice rough from too much drink. He adjusted the heavy sack slung over his shoulder, its contents clinking faintly with each step.

  The third man, lagging slightly behind, held his torch high, the flickering light casting shadows that danced across the snow. “Best haul in months,” he said, his tone smug. “Not bad for a day’s work.”

  Calder’s gaze shifted to the sacks they carried. Each one bulged with goods—coins, trinkets, and other valuables, judging by the faint metallic jingling. His eyes narrowed as he watched the trio weave through the trees, their banter growing louder as they became bolder in their drunken state.

  “Caravan didn’t stand a chance,” the leader continued, taking another swig from his bottle. “Easy pickings, I tell ya. Might even take a trip to Dulozhsk with all this loot. Buy myself something nice.”

  The man behind him laughed. “And leave the rest of us to freeze out here? You’d better be sharing, Varn.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” the leader, Varn, muttered dismissively, waving the bottle. “I’m a generous man.”

  From his perch, Calder’s lips curved into a faint smile, though there was no humor in it. From the way it sounded, these men were very clearly bandits. The sacks they carried were likely heavy with ill-gotten goods, taken from some poor soul who had likely been left in ruin.

  Calder’s spectral hand twitched beneath his cloak, the faint glow pulsing in time with his thoughts. He shifted slightly on the branch, his movements silent as he positioned himself into a squatting position on the branch.

  The men stumbled onward, their torch casting flickering light across the snow-covered ground. The sound of their drunken banter faded slightly as they moved farther away, but the orange glow of the flame remained a beacon in the darkness, marking their path.

  Calder tilted his head, listening intently. The forest had returned to its stillness, save for the crunch of snow beneath their boots and the occasional clink of metal from the sacks they carried. They were heading deeper into the woods, away from any signs of civilization.

  With practiced precision, Calder swung down from the branch, landing silently on the ground below. The cold snow crunched faintly beneath his bare feet, but he felt none of its bite. Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he started after the trio, his steps light and quiet.

  The torchlight bobbed in the distance, its glow fading slightly as the men pressed on, unaware of the shadow slipping silently through the trees behind them.