The whisper came at 3 a.m.
Celeste followed it barefoot, her nightgown whispering against stone. The voice was feminine, frayed at the edges—
"Return… bind… beware…"
It led her to a stretch of wall where the mortar had bled black, as if scorched. She pressed her palm to the stones.
A glyph flared beneath her touch—a thorned circle, glowing faintly blue.
The wall groaned.
Stone scraped against stone, revealing a slit just wide enough to slip through. The air inside smelled of iron and wilted roses.
Celeste stepped into the dark.