The ritual was simple, which made it horrifying. A single prick of his thumb, a drop of blood falling onto the map’s center. Arlo expected a stain. Instead, the map drank .
He unfolded the map one last time. The blood-drop that was him had already started to move, sliding down a vein labeled The Alley of Crying Stones . Arlo packed a saw-cleaver, three vials of pale blood, and a single match.
"The map doesn't lead you to treasure," Elara said, her eyes reflecting the crimson glow. "It leads you to your death. The question is: will you walk the path, or will you burn it?"
The ritual was simple, which made it horrifying. A single prick of his thumb, a drop of blood falling onto the map’s center. Arlo expected a stain. Instead, the map drank .
He unfolded the map one last time. The blood-drop that was him had already started to move, sliding down a vein labeled The Alley of Crying Stones . Arlo packed a saw-cleaver, three vials of pale blood, and a single match.
"The map doesn't lead you to treasure," Elara said, her eyes reflecting the crimson glow. "It leads you to your death. The question is: will you walk the path, or will you burn it?"