The Forbidden Mountains rose from the earth like a cracked spine. No trees grew on their lower slopes, only gray scree and twisted bushes that had turned to stone long ago. The wind carried no bird calls, no insect hum. Just a low, constant moan that seemed to come from the rock itself.
Lucien pulled on his horse's reins and stopped at the base of the first true incline. Zuri halted beside him. Zeph was a few paces back, his hand resting on the hilt of his Ngulu sword.
The hiss came from somewhere ahead, beyond a ridge of black basalt. It was not loud, but it cut through the wind like a blade. A long, slow exhale of air from something large.
MonoValith's scent reached them a moment later. It smelled like old blood, sulfur, and the wet rot of a swamp floor. The odor was so strong that Zuri's horse stamped its hooves and pulled against the bit.
