The descent into the valley of the Sunken Shrine was like stepping into a different world. The silver trees of the Whispering Woods gave way to giant, weeping willows whose branches were heavy with glowing blue moss. Here, the air was cool and damp, smelling of ancient stone and the deep, rich earth that had never seen the sun.
Lucian's pace had slowed. Though he tried to hide it, the "soul-burn" from the Sun-Salt was still making his steps heavy. He kept his arm around Lyra's waist, ostensibly to support her, but she could feel the way he leaned into her, his strength flagging.
"We're here," he whispered, gesturing toward a series of half-buried stone arches rising from a dark, mirror-still pool.
