The city lay in ruins, but it was not dead.

Lyla stood at the edge of what had once been a great civilization, its blackened spires piercing the sky like the ribs of a beast long decayed. A jagged path led into the heart of the forgotten city, where the weight of something ancient pressed against her skin like unseen hands.

She inhaled deeply.

The air here was wrong.

Not stale. Not rotten.

But empty.

It held no scent of life. No trace of time. As if nothing had ever lived here or if ...