“Only the true devotee of the Absolved may walk the Path to the Crescent.” Priest got to his feet, face still set with the same distracted concentration. “We’ve rested long enough,” he said, hefting the torch and starting off down the passage.

To Pilgrim’s relief, Maisha didn’t need further coaxing to follow along, although she did so in vacant-eyed silence, apparently deaf to all questions. It took an hour of walking before a glimmer of silver light appeared in the tunnel ahead and another hour before it opened out into a cavernous chamber. It stretched away for several miles, every yard of it seemingly filled with arched pillars supporting walkways and steps that tracked in different directions. Some rose to great heights whilst others seemed to disappear into the dark bowels of the earth. The whole spectacle was lit by some form of luminescence in the cavern roof that resembled a scattering of stars and provided sufficient light to make their torch redundant.

Priest showed the same regard for the item as he had for the rope ladder in the City of Spires, tossing it into the void below the platform upon which they stood. Pilgrim took it as another signal that this was the last pilgrimage his church would lead. Priest turned to the right and started down a stairwell, the base of which formed a junction of five separate walkways leading off into the stone forest of pillars.

“Which one?” Player asked.

Priest said nothing, moving from one walkway to another, eyes lowered and brow creased. Following his gaze, Pilgrim saw that the start of each path featured a carved inscription. Like the inscribed bones in the library, the letters were rendered in Ultrean. However, whereas Pilgrim had little trouble deciphering the Risen scripture, these words made scant sense. Names he couldn’t pronounce featured amongst references to constellations and places of which he knew nothing. It appeared to him as little more than gibberish, but to Priest it evidently meant a great deal.

“This way,” he said, starting along a path that led into what appeared the densest part of this angular stone maze. As he followed along with the others, Pilgrim glanced down at the words engraved into the stone. It was as meaningless to him as the others apart from a symbol he had seen carved into the wooden flesh of the figurehead on the dry bed of the Azure Sea.

“Thandril,” he muttered.