“Ah, No Man’s Square,” Mac said.
“What is that?” I inspected the space. There were many clearings around town, most of them situated in front of the guild towers that punctuated the city walls at irregular intervals. In most such areas, shops and restaurants filled the buildings at the edge of the clearing, but here, the buildings were abandoned and boarded up.
“There’s no guild tower in this square.” Mac pointed to an empty expanse of wall that pulled at me strangely. “This area is deserted. There may have been shops and restaurants here once, but not in my lifetime.”
The grass in the square was damp and scraggly, with wildflowers blooming in patches. The vegetation looked weak and limp, as though struggling to suck nutrients from the oppressive air.
The city wall, constructed of massive stones, rose tall and beckoned. “Where are we in relation to the gate that leads to the Haunted Hound?”
“Not far,” Mac said. “It’s to our left a few hundred meters, as the crow flies.”
“Are there any guild towers between here and there?” I asked.
“No. The closest guild tower is to our right, and it’s another few hundred meters away.”
“So nothing really happens here.” I eyed the statue of a man in the middle of the square. It was an ancient stone thing, worn and battered by time and the elements.
A bird sat on top of its head, black and regal.
“Is that Eve’s raven?” I asked.
Mac tilted her head. “Maybe. But don’t ask her.”
Our fae friend was followed everywhere by a black raven she claimed not to see. I’d learned the hard way that she got plenty annoyed if you asked her about it.
“Who was that guy?” I asked.
“Councilor Rasla.” There was a slight edge to Mac’s voice. “Bloke’s been dead a few hundred years, but he was the one who put the strict guild rules into place.”
“That everyone must join one?” I asked. “No weirdos allowed in Guild City?”
“That’s the one.” Mac’s lips twisted.
“Jerk.”
“It explains why all the local birds are using his head for a loo.” Mac pointed to the statue, which was covered in white drips.
I smiled, but even the joke wasn’t enough to distract me from the tug on my soul. I slowly approached the wall, curiosity pulling at me. As I cut across the grassy square, I avoided the larger clumps of flowers that were wet from the rain. The day was too cool to get my trousers soaked.
But the closer I came to the wall, the more strongly it pulled.
It almost…sang to me.
I picked up the pace, forgetting my reluctance to wade through the flowers. Vaguely, I recognized that the calves of my jeans were getting wet, but I plowed onward, determined to reach the wall.
What was it about this place?
“Carrow!” Mac’s voice sounded from behind me, echoing slightly with concern.
I could barely hear it.
I kept going, unable to resist the wall’s siren call.
I reached it and pressed my hand to the rough, shimmering stone. Magic. Mac shouted my name again, but the stone wall held my attention. It pulsed, changing in temperature from cool to warm. Dark magic surrounded it, sickening me, but my fascination with the wall was stronger than my discomfort.
A vision flashed in my mind of me walking into the wall, stepping through the stone, which should be impossible.
What happened here?