The Well of the Returning Ash

A cold, round chamber opens around a stone well whose lip is ringed with eight etched glyphs, each worn bright by old fingers. The water below is perfectly still, but white fungal blooms drift across it like breath held too long, and when torches flare the growth gives off a faint green-blue sheen. The air smells of wet stone, old incense, and sweet rot. A low hum answers any touch to the rim, and the water briefly stirs as though listening.