Deep in the Lonely Path Pines

The Ruins

The Ruins

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At the bottom of the cliff, the ruins open up around you. What looked structured from above is more complex at ground level — walls that seemed short from the cliff now stand over your head in places, and what appeared to be simple rubble resolves into doorways, corridors, and the remnants of rooms whose purpose is no longer obvious.

The stone is sandstone, pale and warm-colored beneath the green that has grown over most of it. Vines run along every surface. Ferns push up through the floors. The columns that broke through the canopy above you are enormous at the base — wide as wagon wheels, cut from single pieces of stone. Most have snapped somewhere above fifteen feet, but a few still stand to something near their original height.

The ruins stretch nearly half a mile before the forest reclaims them. There are stairs here that go up to nothing. Archways that open onto more rubble. A structure at the far end that looks more deliberate than the rest — wider steps, a heavier door, its stone darker than the sandstone around it.

Something in the trees is watching you.