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By late afternoon, the forest began to change. The trees thinned, replaced by tall, black rock formations jutting up from the ground like skeletal fingers. The air grew colder, and a faint mist clung to the ground. The obsidian spires reflected the dim sunlight in strange, fractured patterns, as though they absorbed the light more than they reflected it.

"This has to be it," Heizen said, his voice low. He ran his fingers over the surface of one of the spires as they passed. It was unnaturally smooth and icy to the touch, and faint lines of energy ran through it like veins of pale light.

Luna paused beside him, her expression wary. "This place feels… wrong."

"It's the Archive," Heizen said, though he felt it too. The spires pulsed faintly, their light shifting in rhythm with the Soulstone. He could feel a strange energy in the air, one that prickled at the back of his neck. "We're close now. Stay alert."