The discovery of the archway left Cale shaken, but he pressed on. The ruins were vast, and the deeper he went, the more strange remnants he found.
Weapons and armor were scattered across the ground, but they weren't like the ones he had seen before. These were far more advanced, their designs intricate and functional, with strange symbols etched into their surfaces.
He picked up a blade—short, curved, and lighter than he expected. The metal shimmered faintly, as though infused with some kind of energy. Cale tested its balance in his hand, and it felt almost natural, as though it were meant for him.
He slid the blade into his belt. "No harm in being prepared," he muttered.
Further into the ruins, he began to notice signs of recent activity. Footprints in the dirt, faint trails of smoke in the air, and marks on the walls that looked freshly carved.
Cale's chest tightened. "Someone's here," he whispered.
The lantern pulsed faintly in his hand, its flame flickering in a rhythmic pattern. It seemed to be guiding him, urging him toward something.
As he followed the trail, he heard faint sounds in the distance—voices, though too far away to make out clearly. He froze, his grip tightening on the lantern.
"Do I go to them?" he wondered aloud. The thought of finding other people was both comforting and terrifying.
Before he could decide, the sound of footsteps behind him made his blood run cold.
Cale turned sharply, his blade already drawn. The lantern's light cast long shadows, but nothing moved. The ruins were silent again.
"Am I imagining things?" he muttered, but he didn't lower his guard.