"Lead on, then."
They moved forward, boots slapping on the slick stone. Every step echoed, ricocheting off root-latticed walls. Mikhailis caught stray murmurings of drip—sap or water, he couldn't tell—and the hiss of distant vents. Shadows shifted as they passed, filling him with the sense that unseen eyes tracked their progress.
Around a bend, they entered a hall lined with Bone-Knights. Dozens stood in solemn file, rusted breastplates mottled with lichen and their elbows locked stiffly at their sides. Their helmets tilted upward, as though daring any living thing to approach. Mikhailis swallowed. Even the stale air felt colder here.
Before he could urge Thalatha onward, the helmed sentinels stepped forward in unison, swords rising in a silent salute of war. The metallic rasp of iron on bone rang like a death knell.
"Go!" Mikhailis shouted, heart pounding.
