wyley

Lucien pushed his large frame through the ruined frame of a crumbling house deep in Old Wyley. One hand led the way while the other hung from a rope about his neck, dead and useless until he could reattach it. Dead things followed him, warped by magic until their original forms were unrecognizable - even to his adept senses. 

“A place with tall towers, leaning together. The ground is littered with bricks and blackened glass flowers. A gathering of the hollow people missing their centers forms a ring beneath the towers. In the middle is.. darkness. I cannot see it.”

He’d gone to investigate this vision, able to recognize the location from the accompanying fantastical drawing. It was a place he had been long ago. Perhaps he should have shown his master, but at the time Lucien had thought he could handle it easily. 

He cursed his foolishness as he dodged behind a broken wall and let the pursuing shadows pass in their lumbering way. He’d gotten into trouble. “And,” He thought as he glanced upwards to the great barrier that kept the city contained, “I can’t even see the stars..”