"The door at the bottom of the well isn't an exit," it said. "It's an invitation. Fort Marrok was never built to keep enemies out, Elara. It was built to keep something in."
The figure smiled. At least, the porcelain face seemed to crack in a way that might have been a smile.
In the silence, she heard footsteps behind her.
She peered over the edge.
But the fort wasn't empty.
Another flash of lightning. The figure was closer now, though she hadn't seen it move.
Tonight, the fort was restless.