Hunt in the Shadows (3)

Up close, the glyphs writhed—tiny iron spiders crawling over stone.

Her instincts recoiled; the script felt wrong, as if it named every forest spirit bound within.

She set her left palm against the stone and pressed Leaf-Steel's flat to the runes.

Jade light poured from the sword, a river of living emerald meeting charred sigils.

Stone hissed.

Heat surged, but she held the contact, channeling years of ritual practice—give the blade, take the taint.

A hairline fissure snaked up the pillar.

Then another, branching like lightning through marble.

Crack.

The obelisk split with a muted bang, shards tumbling into the grass.

A wisp of black smoke spiraled skyward, trailing a dying wail so thin only spirit-senses caught it.

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