The Moon-Warded Antechamber

The ruin chamber is round, cold, and filmed with dust that shivers as if the stones still remember footsteps. Four broken arches frame a ring of glowing sigils sunk into the floor, their light paling and brightening like a slow breath. At the center stands a cracked plinth with a bronze tablet, while three wall braziers exhale a faint scent of myrrh, old smoke, and wet iron. Whenever the wrong glyph is touched, the chamber answers with a low hum and a brief lash of blue-white light from the floor seams.