The air in the chamber was still warm, like embers that refused to die out. The smell of metal and dust clung thickly to every breath, leaving a bitter trace on the tongue. The aftermath of battle was etched into the room: pillars collapsed in jagged heaps, deep fractures running across the floor, and black scorch marks left by poison and surging bursts of energy.
Sylvia rose slowly, brushing the dust from her gown. Though her body had yet to fully recover from the weight of the fight, her eyes carried a strange new spark not euphoria, but a quiet satisfaction at having passed a trial she hadn't been sure she could survive.
"All right…" she murmured, letting out a long breath as her gaze swept toward the edges of the room. Normally… there would be a way up to the next floor. That was how it always worked. She began walking, her new heels crunching softly over scattered fragments of stone, eyes scanning every corner.
But there were no stairs.
