The air in the corridor of the dungeon shifted—subtle at first, then undeniable. Shellia slowed her steps, staff tapping softly against the uneven stone floor. Orielle's faint flame hovered near her shoulder, pushing away the stubborn darkness, while Orryn padded along in his smaller form, antlers glowing faintly like an icy lantern. Veyra walked silently at her side, armor whispering like broken bells, half-shadow and half-light, an unsettling but oddly reassuring presence.
Then—ding!
A translucent window panel slammed into existence right in front of Shellia's nose.
"Again?!" Shellia groaned, almost whacking it with her staff. "Do these things have manners? At least knock before you appear like a stalker ghost!"
Orryn tilted his head, antlers sparking with frost. [You still complain, but you always read them.]
"I don't have a choice! They block my vision!" Shellia snapped, waving her hand, but the panel didn't move. "Ugh, fine, let's see what nonsense it wants this time."
