The heavy ironwood lid of the containment trunk slammed shut with a resounding, highly definitive thud. Jules instantly engaged the thick brass latches, his clever fingers moving with a frantic, desperate speed. The absolute second the final latch clicked securely into place, the immense, divine magical signature of the Golden Kirin vanished completely from the room.
However, the suffocating, terrifying tension inside the lowest dungeon did not dissipate. It intensified to a truly unbearable level.
"We cannot fight him down here," Jules stated rapidly, his green eyes darting toward the open archway leading back to the spiralling staircase. "If we engage Liam and his necromancers in this confined, subterranean space, the resulting magical crossfire will absolutely obliterate the ironwood trunk. The beast will not survive a direct hit."
