An hour or two ago, in the mid layers of Carthage.
Ren's boots scraped against the damp stone as he ducked into the narrow mouth of the hidden tunnel.
The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of old dust and stagnant water. The cramped passage sloped upward, and the darkness seemed almost like a living being, covering him on all sides.
He moved slowly, his senses stretched thin, every nerve alert for the slightest sign of a trap.
The silence around him was the oppressive blanket of the Shard's influence, and in it, every sound he made was devoured before it could even be heard.
If this was a normal day, the faint grind of his heel and even the shallow rasp of his breathing would have been loud in the tunnel, but right now, there was nothing.
His instincts kept telling him that this was too easy. An unguarded path upward? In the middle of Carthage during a coup? Impossible. But each cautious step proved otherwise.
