Answers needed. Keep going.

As she wandered deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of the abandoned monastery, a whispering sound brushed against her ears like wind through hollow reeds. At first, she thought it was nothing more than the echoes of her own footsteps. But then, soft and deliberate, it came again—a single, fleeting sound that almost resembled her name.

She froze, breath fogging in the cold air. “Who’s there?” Her voice seemed to be swallowed by the shadows, the silence thick and oppressive.

Cerina waited, but no answer came. Pressing on, she strained to catch another sound, her pulse still pounding in her chest. The corridor seemed endless, every wooden beam bending in the same odd way. Soon, she began to feel as though the hallway were subtly narrowing.

There is wrong.

The voice in her head murmured, sharp and deliberate.

The woods and the monastery… they do not align.

The words sent a chill racing down her spine. She wanted to turn back, but something kept her moving forward, as though invisible hands tugged her along.

At last, the corridor ended abruptly in a wall. She stood before it, bewildered, her breath catching in her chest. The walls here were different—darker, worn smooth by time. Carved into the surface were strange markings unlike any she’d ever seen.

Cerina crouched, running her fingers along the grooves. The letters were jagged, angular, almost violent in their design, as though they’d been slashed into the stone with a blade. They formed no language she could recognize, but their presence was undeniable, deliberate, and they radiated unease.

Behind her, the hallway yawned, the oppressive silence growing deeper. She whispered to herself, “What is this place?”

The voice in her head offered no answer. For the first time since she’d entered these halls, it was silent.

Her unease grew unbearable, and the shadows seemed to grow thicker as she stood. Without another word, she turned and went back the way she had come, glancing over her shoulder more than once.

When she finally returned to her room and shut the door behind her, she sank onto the bed, slowly calming her shuddering breaths. The candle had been replaced while she was gone, and now flickered faintly, casting shapes against the walls.

The foot of her bed held its own surprise. Robes and plain clothes lay in a tangled heap, wrinkled and unfamiliar, but clean. One of the small black rocks sat on the side of the pile.