"We go deeper."
The words hung in the air like a silent decree, dampened only by the thick, humid stillness of the swamp.
Inigo wiped a smear of blood off his cheek and looked ahead—where the murky water narrowed into a shaded, unnatural passage. Thick reeds lined either side, rising like a tunnel of green spears. Beyond that, the terrain rose slightly, and what appeared to be black stone poked through the bog. Not natural rock. Carved. Shaped.
A temple.
"Eyes sharp," Inigo said. "This is their nest."
The team reorganized quickly. Sark and Hal led the front, blades drawn, their boots squelching in the mud. Feron stayed behind them with a hand-axe and his utility pouch, ready to deal with traps. Lyra took rear guard, while Meryl, Brenna, and Lio covered the flanks, all weapons loaded and silent.
