The night did not end.
It thickened.
Time lost its measure beneath the canopy, where moonlight flickered in and out like the breath of some sleeping beast. The air was neither wholly still nor alive with wind; it simply pressed down, heavy and unrelenting, a silence vast enough to smother thought.
Leo remained within the circle of moss-clad pillars, his body aching but his spirit taut, like a bowstring stretched to breaking. Beyond the ring of stone, the revenants lingered. They paced in crooked circles, their emaciated frames twitching, their cracked skin reflecting faint gleams of moonlight. Eyes glowed faintly in their hollow sockets, ember-bright, never blinking. They did not howl, nor did they advance. They waited.
