Terakiel couldn't accurately call what he was traveling through a "forest" any longer. The air was dusty and arid. He found his breaths were coming more shallowly and the moisture in his mouth had been sucked dry. He licked his lips absentmindedly in an attempt to relieve the dryness, but it was like rubbing sandpaper on his face. Although withered trees lingered here and there, he was quite definitely out of the woods now. The grass had thinned to expose parched expanses of soil. The need for water was at the forefront of his mind. He had to wonder how easy it would be to find water in a place like this.
It wasn't long before he caught sight of something in the distance on an otherwise featureless expanse of parched soil with patches of grass and withered trees. There was a large opening in the earth, ringed by a series of thin metallic objects, although not uniformly. There were empty spaces Terakiel could see through, but all he could see beyond them was what he could only assume was a canyon. His thoughts wandered back to Lakara, before he'd found himself lost in a maze after the cavern. He remembered the valley he'd traversed with some difficulty, where he'd found the first planar stone. Was this too the location of another such stone? It seemed he was inexorably drawn to them--unless they were much more commonplace than he'd first imagined.
As he drew closer, details of the metallic objects came into clearer focus. They were walls, although their purpose was ostensibly mostly decorative. They took all sorts of different shapes, some of which were quite ornate. They were covered in various different designs and symbols that Terakiel didn't recognize, although one of them was a quite striking painting of a reptilian creature, it's slitted eyes gazing threateningly at its prospective viewers. The walls were linked at the higher levels by a silvery mesh material that seemed to serve to hold them in place. Terakiel wondered for a moment how sturdy they would be in the event of inclement weather, but he dismissed the thought almost immediately. This place had likely never seen even a drop of rain--although there was a slight stiff breeze determined to further dry out his throat.
Terakiel wasn't sure what the walls meant other than the fact civilization had been there. Was it an ancient ruin? The walls and illustrations seemed to be in good enough condition to have been put there recently--especially considering the ill effect the dusty wind must have had on their quality. He imagined a ceremony in which the paintings and etchings were replaced every few months once the old ones had worn down. It must be sad to see your hard work be destroyed by the passage of time, he reasoned. The reptilian illustration in particular was well done. If he'd been the artist behind it, he'd be hesitant to hang it up to be eroded by the elements like that. It must have been erected there recently. He couldn't see a scratch on its entire pristine surface.
Once he was at the edge of the canyon, he peered up as high as he could to get a better look at the fearsome reptile staring at him. He could very faintly see the sheen of the paint. It had an ethereal glimmer to it not unlike the strange moth of Lakara. It was curious. It looked different--up close--than any other paint he'd seen, although he had to admit he'd not seen much of it back in Tombolin. Artist had not been a common profession there, if it could even be described as such. Artists were generally individuals who made their living with some common profession and treated art as a hobby or as supplemental income. The market for paintings, sculptures, and the like was relatively small, considering the typically taciturn demeanor of the populace. Art was more popular among the younger generation, but Terakiel himself had never been too engrossed in it.
He had to admit, though, that there was something captivating about that painting. It seemed alive. It was unsettling in a way. He could see the tension in its rippled, scaled muscles, the faint sheen of moisture on its spiked brow, and the deadly intent in those yellow eyes. It made him feel cold somehow. He broke his gaze from the painting and ventured to the edge of the canyon carefully, intending only to get a look at its contents.
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