Chapter 126
Have you ever visited a spooky, abandoned cemetery?
Not the kind with a few crooked gravestones and overgrown weeds that looks creepy in daylight but probably harmless.
I mean the kind where the wind seems to have a mind of its own, rushing between the graves with a low, hollow whistle.
Where the silence is so complete that you find yourself listening for the smallest sound, only to realize there isn't a single living soul for miles.
That was what the Sanctuary of the Fallen felt like.
The cemetery stretched endlessly beneath a sky drowned in dark, heavy clouds.
Ancient gravestones leaned at odd angles among tangled bushes and weeds that had been left to grow wild, their names worn away by years of rain and neglect.
Dead leaves scraped across the ground, skittering between the graves whenever the wind passed through.
And then there was the mansion.
It stood beyond the cemetery, half-hidden behind the overgrown bushes, enormous and impossibly dark.
Parts of its stone walls had crumbled away, leaving jagged gaps where windows and rooms had once been.
Ivy crawled across the walls and disappeared into cracks in the ancient stone.
The remaining windows were black and empty, their darkness making the entire structure seem as though it were silently watching us.
Dark clouds hung directly above it, thick and restless, as though the sky itself had gathered there and refused to move.
A place forgotten by the living, where even the wind seemed reluctant to stay.
My fingers tightened around Rhaevan's arm.
"Are... are you sure we're at the right place?" I asked, glancing around the cemetery.
"Yes."
I instinctively touched my satchel, feeling for the compass inside. "Then why isn't the compass glowing like before?"
"Maybe the ghosts are interfering," Rhaevan whispered.
I gulped and slowly looked at him, trying to determine whether he was joking.
His expression gave me absolutely nothing.
"Scared?" he asked.
"No. Ghosts don't exist," I said firmly.
Unfortunately, the way my fingers tightened around his arm suggested that the rest of my body had received a very different memo.
He glanced down at the hand still wrapped around his arm before looking back at me.
"Shall we go inside?"
I looked at the crumbling mansion, then at the cemetery surrounding us. The wind swept through the bushes with another eerie whistle.
"Alright."
Rhaevan started walking toward the ruins.
I reluctantly followed, making no attempt whatsoever to release his arm.
After all, ghosts might not exist, but there was absolutely no reason to take unnecessary chances.
The deeper we walked into the ruins, the more I disliked everything about this place.
The silence wasn't empty. It felt heavy, almost oppressive, as though the air itself had absorbed centuries of grief and refused to let it go.
Broken stone surrounded us on all sides.
Some structures had collapsed entirely, reduced to jagged heaps swallowed by dead grass and creeping moss.
Others still stood in partial defiance of time-arches without walls, staircases leading nowhere, pillars cracked through the middle but somehow refusing to fall.
And everywhere, there were names.
Carved into stone.
Hundreds of them.
No. Thousands.
Names etched into pillars, memorial walls, broken slabs, even fallen stones half-buried in the earth.
I slowed to a stop.
This wasn't just a ruin.
It had once been a place of remembrance.
People had come here to mourn. To remember. To make sure those they had lost were not forgotten.
I released my hold on Rhaevan's arm and stopped in front of a large memorial wall.
The names were worn but still readable.
I traced one with my eyes. Then another..Then another.
Each name had an inscription beside it.
Mage.Healer. Guardian. Scout.
Mother. Brother. Daughter. Son
My chest tightened. These weren't just soldiers. They were people. People who had lived. Laughed. Loved. And then died here.
Behind me, Rhaevan spoke quietly.
"This was once one of Ardentia's western sanctuaries."
I turned slightly.
He stood a few steps behind me, his gaze moving over the ruined memorial.
"It became a refuge during the war, for civilians. The names engraved here are of those brave souls who stood up against evil."
His words landed heavily within me. I looked back at the wall.
Mothers. Children. Healers.
Not just fighters.
I suddenly found myself hating the war more than I already did.
The wind rose again.
It moved through the broken structures, slipping between the pillars and empty arches with a long, hollow sound.
I stared at the memorial wall.
For a moment, the sound almost resembled whispers.
I told myself it was only the wind. Then I heard it. Clear. Soft. Right beside my ear.
"Cassiane."
I froze. Every muscle in my body was locked. Slowly, I turned. There was nothing. No one.
Only broken stone, tangled weeds and shadows stretching beneath the ruined arches.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
That had been the wind.
Obviously.
Acoustic distortion.
Architectural resonance.
Magic-science.
Whatever.
I took a slow breath.
Ghosts don't exist, I reminded myself.
That's when another stronger gust swept past me.
The dead leaves scattered across the ground.
The ruined arches groaned.
And from somewhere within the darkness, the wind curled around me once more.
"Cassianeee...this way..."
My blood ran cold. I didn't move. I didn't breathe.
And, for the first time since entering the Sanctuary of the Fallen, I had absolutely nothing to say.