The entrance was massive, arched like the jaws of some slumbering beast. Moss clung to the dark stone, and faint carvings etched into the rock shimmered when the sunlight touched them. Strange symbols, old as the earth itself, which whispered of forgotten rites.

The air grew cooler as we approached, carrying with it the faint scent of damp stone and something metallic—blood, or perhaps old magic. Birds circled overhead, their cries sharp, uneasy.

Adam paused, gesturing toward the entrance. “This is where the worship session will take place,” he said. “We are hours early, but there are many things to see. The caves hold more than shadows.”

I stared at...