[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Outskirts]
The duo of Dante and Tamamo-no-Mae stood before the yawning entrance of the mine.
The air here was almost suffocating — as if the forest refused to breathe near this place. The entrance was framed by slabs of rock, worn smooth by decades of mining, and blocked only by a pair of heavy, splintering wooden doors that looked more ceremonial than protective. The breeze that slipped through their cracks carried the scent of dust and stale metal.
To either side of the entrance lay the slumped forms of four Retorta Guild guards. Their forms battered and their weapons scattered.
Tamamo-no-Mae, perched casually upon his shoulder, tilted her golden head. "Hm," she murmured, her eyes narrowing. "I wasn't certain before, but now I can sense it — almost buried. There's a trace of magic lingering within… suppressed, perhaps, or weakened. Coming from the deeper levels."
