Great sounds thundered through the bowels of the earth, like ancient boulders hurled by titans slamming into the stone floor. The tremors coursed through the underground hallway, rattling the very walls and shaking dust from the crags in the ceiling. A dozen figures moved through the passage, their shadows swaying along the uneven stone as candlelight flickered dimly in sconces along the wall.
They were not ordinary men and women. Every one of them held influence—lords, commanders, advisors of the Ashbourne Territory. Yet in that moment, no crowns of confidence adorned their brows, only furrowed lines of tension and unease. They walked not like conquerors but like mourners, their footsteps hesitant, their thoughts tangled in webs of apprehension.
