The ancient stone arch loomed before me, half-submerged in murky water, strange symbols crawling across its surface like frozen serpents. Four days of relentless travel had brought us to the outskirts of the Sunken City of Aeridor, and the sight before me sent chills down my spine despite the coastal humidity.
"Your Grace," Captain Reynard murmured beside me, his hand resting on his sword hilt. "The locals say no one returns from beyond this point."
I nodded grimly. "Then we'll be the first."
Our small party consisted of just four men: myself, Captain Reynard, the veteran knight Sir Byron, and Ellias, a scholar who specialized in ancient languages. All volunteers. All aware we might not return.
The image of my son's fevered face flashed before my eyes. Every hour we delayed, the Shadow Bloom drained more of his life force. I couldn't fail him.
