The standing stones blazed with silver light. The carvings on their surfaces, worn by centuries of wind and rain, seemed to writhe and shift, ancient symbols awakening from a long slumber. The silver grass at their bases rippled without wind, and the air grew thick with a pressure that pressed against Lin Shen's ears.
He did not move. He stood at the edge of the circle, the white stone warm in his palm, his spear resting against his shoulder, and watched the passage open.
The light coalesced. It formed an archway, tall and wide enough for a dozen people to walk through side by side. Beyond it, Lin Shen could see nothing. Only silver light, endless and patient, waiting for someone to step through.
Grandmother Yue stepped beside him. Her blind eyes stared toward the archway. Her staff tapped against the silver grass.
"This is it," she said. "The sanctuary. The place our ancestors built to hide from the Deep."
Lin Shen nodded. "And beyond it?"
