Spires reach the skies.

Oath’s gaze darkened with concern as he saw the small pool of blood forming beneath Fairytale’s paw. Instinctively, he moved closer, his cyan eyes softening as she nuzzled against his chest. The sting of her wound only deepened his sense of urgency, but there was something else; the weight of her words and the uncertainty in the air, thick and palpable, gnawed at him.

"I don't like this either," he murmured, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly might stir whatever ancient force lay dormant beneath the spires. "But you're right... if something is trapped or calling, we can't just leave it unchecked."

His nose brushed her wound gently, a soft breath escaping his lips. "But you’re hurt. We need to be careful. These stones... they aren’t just part of the land. They feel... alive." The song the spires sang, carried on the wind, chilled his bones. Yet even in the face of danger, he could feel Fairytale’s determination, her desire to protect those she cared for.

“We’ll find the answers, but not at the cost of your safety,” he whispered, gently nudging her away from the spires and strange grounds. “Let’s step back, get your wound healed, and figure out what this place really wants from us. We’ll get to the bottom of this, together... just... not now that you've already been hurt, please?" He glanced back at the towering spires.