Mist clung to the ancient, moss-covered stones, curling between the trees. Aira knelt in the clearing, fingers brushing against the worn surface of the shrine as she muttered to herself, trying to decipher the runes in the faint light filtering through the trees above.
Each rune shimmered with age-old magic, the stone humming beneath her fingertips. Dragon magic. This was what her family wanted. Behind her, Kellan paced, his heavy footfalls the only sound in the eerie silence. She felt his impatient gaze burning into her back, but she ignored him, narrowing her eyes as she made out more of the inscription.
He'd been muttering about how all of this was a pointless diversion, and now he barely masked his annoyance.
"Still at it?" he sneered. "You realize we're chasing shadows, right? That little trinket of yours"—he gestured to the compass, hanging from her belt—"it just picked up on residual energy from this shrine. Nothing more."
