“Well, that is equal parts fascinating and unnerving. Something just feels wrong about this place, even the horses don’t like it.” Boats commented grimly as they came to a halt on the outskirts of the newly discovered ruins.

  Alter couldn’t help but quietly agree. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the other horses shuffling nervously, their ears pricked as if ready to bolt the moment something happened. Even Tarikell, who was notably more stoic than his brethren, was tense and unsettled. Reaching forward, Alter lay a reassuring hand against the back of his neck, moving his palm in small, rhythmic circles which appeared to have a somewhat calming effect.

  “If we’re creeped out by this ruin that I suspect our escapee is too. But he’s headed straight towards the centre, do you think he knows something we don’t?” Boozehound asked.

  “It’s a decent theory,” Alter rubbed his chin as he frowned at the ancient stonework. “We should check the perimeter first. I think he probably cut through the centre and carried on, let’s see if we can pick up a trail on the far side. At least, I hope that is the case.”

  The team carefully turned their mounts to the side and encouraged them to walk forwards. Despite their clear discomfort, the horses followed their commands, although many a nervous glance was cast towards the silent ruin, and the deep tension kept its icy tendrils around them. As they made their slow progress, the team discovered that this complex was much larger than they had initially suspected. Outbuildings made of the same material flanked the main structure, smaller in size but still larger than most houses. Many of these were in a considerably worse state of disrepair, with some even having small trees growing out through their broken roofs. As for the more imposing centrepiece, their movement had revealed a long row of arched gaps surrounded by faded carvings. Tall windows now devoid of glass that reminded Alter of the great European cathedrals in historical city centres. Thick, choking blankets of ivy could be seen throughout, reaching upward like dark green fire that shimmered with subtle motion as the breeze sifted through it. Other than the windows, the most prominent feature was a large square relief set just below the roofline. It depicted a bountiful fruit tree, flanked by a pair of kneeling figures in long robes, and backed by a dawning sun. More a mystery than an omen, the symbolism was unknown to him, though he admitted that the architectural history of Meios was not a topic he had studied.

  Eventually, they completed their skirting to the opposite point. However, a close examination of the area revealed no evidence that anyone had passed through. Concerned, the order to continue their circuit was given, but once again no prints nor disturbed greenery could be found. With a painful inevitability, the team found themselves back where they had started, staring down at the furtive footprints.

  “Either this guy’s gotten much better at sneaking around, or he’s hunkered down in the middle of that lot.” Boozehound laid out the options.

  “I guess we’re going in after him, then?” Boats rolled his neck and shoulders.

  Resigned to the fact, Alter nodded and began to dismount. There was no way their four-legged friends would take any step closer than necessary, so Boats led them away a short distance back into the forest so they’d be a little more at ease. That, and to prevent their quarry from slipping past them and commandeering one for himself. Once the marksman had returned, the three men began their careful progress into the ruins proper. Initially, all they had to contend with was chest-high walls, lone, fallen blocks and piles of broken masonry. Nothing big enough to hide or house a fugitive, but still disruptive enough to block sightlines and other avenues of approach. Just as suspected, the trail led straight towards the main doorway and through into the unexpectedly green interior. Alter had come to the silent decision that this was some sort of forgotten temple, and the fact that the building didn’t seem to have, or have had, any interior walls only compounded his theory.

  Three things caught his eye as they passed beneath the empty doorway. The first was the source of the green. Thick moss coated the floor like a natural, plush carpet, which squelched faintly and held the shapes of their feet after they had trodden on it. The second was the statue at the far end of the room, it too mostly covered in the same moss. It took the form of a vaguely feminine figure, was at least twenty feet tall and was made of the same white marble. One arm was outstretched towards the entrance as if welcoming them in, while the other pointed towards the sky, perhaps to indicate the presence of some greater power. Whatever it was, the true meaning of the gesture was long gone, likely never to be relearned. The third could be found by allowing your eyes to follow the sunken footprints off to the left of the statue, and into a side hall initially hidden from view. There the prints suddenly became frantic, as long gouges in the moss showed signs of an intense struggle. Fresh blood pooled, but there was no body to be seen.

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  “Oh, bloody hell what happened here? What have we gotten ourselves into?” Alter murmured as he stared at this unexpected scene.

  “Look beyond the struggle, the moss is almost completely flattened. Someone crawled away towards that entryway at the far end, or they were dragged.” Boats answered slowly, his eyes flicking from point to point.

  “What a charming idea. One, that’s more than enough blood lost to be considered fatal. I don’t think we have anything more to gain here, we should leave now.” Boozehound advised urgently as he turned to cover their rear.

  Alter was torn for a moment, he at least wanted to confirm the body in order to put a full stop at the end of this sorry sentence. However, common sense dictated that horror-film nonsense was afoot and he wanted no part of it. With weapons raised and the renewed vow to never ignore oddly poignant senses of foreboding again, the team began doubling back at a much quicker pace. Nothing prevented them from heading back out of the temple, neither was there any sign of pursuit. All was going well enough, that was until they made it closer to the edge of the ruins. A strange, pulsing sensation settled into Alter’s skull as he moved, a pain that only intensified with every faltering step as each man was increasingly afflicted. By the time they had made it a few meters more, the pain was akin to a wall of psychic agony, like being crushed under the pressure of the ocean floor. Desperate to get away from the pain, the team scampered back towards the centre, where the feeling lessened to the manageable level of a minor headache.

  “This,” Boozehound began as he furiously rubbed his temples. “This complicates things.”

  “Someone, or something, doesn’t want us to leave. At least the horses aren’t trapped in here too.” Agreed Boats.

  “Just our bloody luck. Alright, what do we think could be causing this?” Alter asked.

  “Assuming this ‘barrier’ is being caused by whatever attacked our man, my bet is that there’s some type of Unrepentant that calls this place home.” Boozehound theorised.

  “Agreed. Four, please tell me you’ve got the thermal scope on you.” Alter turned to the marksman.

  “I never leave the house without it.” Boats confirmed and quickly produced the vital piece of equipment before reminding them. “Remember, this thing drinks battery power like my grandad drank cheap beer, so I need to use it sparingly.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. I know it doesn’t sound particularly fun, but we need to keep probing at this barrier, on the slim chance that there’s a gap somewhere.” Alter grimaced.

  “Better than facing some invisible monstrosity, let’s move.” Boozehound nodded and the team began picking their way carefully around the outskirts of the ruins.

  Carefully, each man took their turn to edge closer to the barrier, and to no one's surprise there was no avenue of escape to be found. After making it roughly a quarter of the way around, Alter called a halt.

  “Enough, I think we can assume that whatever has us trapped in here has been pretty thorough. The more we slam our heads against the metaphorical wall, the less capable we’ll become for what happens next. I say we focus our attention on removing this blockade at its source.”

  “Alright, what’s the play?” Boozehound asked.

  “Let’s retrace our steps and head back to where our man got grabbed. We follow the tracks further in, find what’s causing this, and if it is indeed a predatory Unrepentant then we give it a nice lead dessert to go with today’s lunch.”