My power hits the ground with so much force, it blows thick globs of mud far and wide. Under the direction of the spell, my magic peels away the soil layer by layer. It takes several seconds, but eventually, I uncover a section of marble flooring that looks identical to what I’ve seen in other parts of these ruins.
Well, identical save for the swath of magic slipping down along its seams.
Save me…
I swallow. The voice is coming from beneath the floor in question. I figured as much, but now…now I’m having to make sense of that.
The deep-blue magic gathers around me, coaxing me to uncover whatever lies beneath that slab. I open my mouth, scrambling to fit together another spell, when something else entirely pours from my lips.
“Buvakata sutavuva izakasava xu ivakamit sanasava,” I incant, my voice deepening with my power. Open and reveal that which is hidden.
The words raise the hairs on my arms, not only because they’re foreign and haunting but because they came as naturally to me as English.
Beneath the touch of my power, the stone slab vibrates as it begins to pry itself free. As I watch, tendrils of blue magic slip between my own, and on some level, I feel that contact. A heady shiver courses through me.
With a groan, the marble slab lifts from the ground and slides aside.
I exhale, my nerves on edge.
Now that the floor has been removed, I can make out an opening and steps leading down into it. The dark ribbon of magic descends into the darkness.
Do I dare go down there?
Come…to…me…beloved…
The voice whispers like a lover, brushing against my ear and raising the hairs at the nape of my neck. The words should be off-putting, but I’m too bewitched by the voice to turn back now.
Even if I were, it wouldn’t matter because my familiar slips past me before heading down the steps, like forgotten subterranean chambers are not at all scary or troubling. As he descends, mounted torches flare to life, revealing a long set of stairs and a hallway far below.
“Nero!” I call out. I’m supposed to be the one taking the risks here with the strange voice, not my familiar.
If he hears my voice, he doesn’t listen. My familiar disappears, and while I can still hear torches lighting somewhere beyond my line of sight, the sound grows more and more distant, presumably as the panther moves deeper into the chamber.
“Nero!” I call out again.
Nothing.
I slip into his mind just to make sure he’s okay. One second, I’m staring down at the dark opening, and in the next, I’m inside, prowling forward, claw tips clicking against the stone flooring. Through Nero’s eyes, I see massive walls and flickering shadows, and I can smell…something.
Something alive.
In an instant, I’m back in my own head.
I had understood that some being was behind the magic and the voice that called to me. Still, it’s obvious this place has been long forgotten, bound in wards that have outlasted the spellcasters themselves.
And yet, despite the forgotten state of this place, something still lingers here alongside these wards, something sentient and magical, and my brand-spanking-new familiar is heading straight for it.
Not good, not good, not good.
Before I can think better of it, I plunge down those stairs after Nero, following the torchlight and the trail of indigo magic.
About halfway down, I notice how dry everything is. Even the air, which was so humid aboveground, is parched here. On either side of me, torches flicker and hiss, giving off not just the smell of smoke but also frankincense and cinnamon.
I trail my fingers over the walls, where I see the iridescent sheen of spells. The same magic I met earlier is here again, hanging heavy in the air. I don’t believe it belongs to that disembodied voice, but that only deepens the mystery. The power fills the space, coating the air and walls like honey, and the blue magic seems to twist and contort—just a little—around it. Odd.
Odder still, I sense it’s supposed to keep people away, and yet it seems to welcome me, brushing against my flesh like the softest silk.
Once I get to the bottom, I cast my gaze down the long hallway in front of me. It curves out of sight, that ribbon of magic disappearing with it.
“Nero?” I call.
Nothing.
I look back up the stairs and give the sky one last remorseful look before continuing.
The walls here are carved with images of trees and beasts and warriors on horseback, the firelight and shadows making them dance. Draped over it all are more shimmery webs of spells.
Farther down the hall, the images give way to lines of text. The letters seem to jiggle a little as I look; the words themselves are spells. The writing appears to be…Latin. However, the longer I stare, the more I realize this is not actually Latin.