“I think this is much older than a Roman city. It takes thousands of years of sedimentation and soil erosion to bury something this deep, and I discovered this Other land only a few hundred years ago. Whoever once lived here was long gone by then.” He held out his hand, igniting another ball of fire. His Power intensified as he held it up, and gradually the light grew to fill the space, illuminating what appeared to be a great hall. He took her hand. “There might be another collapse. Stay close.”

They walked past giant shadowed columns covered in carvings. Dust lay thick on the floor, but in patches she could see a faint, complex mosaic, and murals carved in stone towered the height of three men.

“You don’t have to worry. I have no intention of stepping out on my own.” As they walked forward, she laced her fingers through his. “This may be splendid and fascinating, but it’s also creepy.”

“It is creepy,” he agreed. “Ruins usually feel more peaceful.”

She stared at one panel of a mural. It appeared to be the scene of a great battle. There was a huge army on the ground and winged creatures overhead. One figure on the ground appeared bigger than the others. He wore a crown that shone with a dim glint of gold and pointed a scepter or weapon toward the winged creatures in the sky.

That reminded her. “When we were on our way over here, I saw a lot more of the creatures flying overhead.”

“Did you?” he said absently. He strode forward, pulling her along with him. “See that large rectangular stone on a dais? We seem to have a sarcophagus here. This entire hall may be a tomb.”

Carvings covered the giant rectangle of stone, and more sparks of gold glinted in the reflection of Dragos’s witchlight. A pile of rubble and large stones had damaged one end of the carved sarcophagus. A breath of wind blew against their faces with a dry rustle.

“The creatures seemed agitated.” Her voice came out breathless. Was it her imagination or did the creepiness factor just kick up a notch or three? She stopped moving forward and tugged on Dragos’s hand. “I don’t want to go near the sarcophagus thingy.”

The wind increased, bringing with it a darkness that enveloped them. Dragos’s witchlight dimmed but did not quite go out, and his fingers crushed hers.

No really, he was crushing her hand. She felt caught in a vise of hot flame. “Dragos—you’re hurting me!”

He turned to look at her. The expression on his face was indescribable. He whispered, “Run.”