CRACK.
The entrance burst inward, the door splintering off its hinges and slamming against the stone wall inside.
Steel boots stomped forward.
Runes flared faintly under mage cloaks as spells were readied.
The hunt had begun.
…
Inside the warehouse, the mood shifted in an instant.
Half a dozen men sat around a makeshift table, throwing dice and sipping from tarnished tin cups. A single lantern burned low in the corner, casting long, flickering shadows across the cracked stone walls. Behind them, a clutter of maps, smuggling manifests, and coded letters hung on a board nailed to old wooden beams. One man cleaned a dagger. Another calmly sharpened an axe, sparks dancing across the blade.
The atmosphere had been relaxed. Loose. Careless.
Until now.
"Hey… what was that noise?" Tannus muttered, straightening in his seat. He frowned toward the corridor, eyes narrowing.
