The line flowed forward as if the interruption had never happened.
Stone swallowed the echoes behind them, and the tunnels closed in again, narrow and oppressive. The explorer led without hesitation, following the pull of essence deeper into the maze while Valttair and Elenara advanced behind him, silent and controlled, their presence enough to steady the formation.
The pattern repeated itself relentlessly.
Tunnel. Then a chamber. Then another tunnel.
Some of the chambers were disturbingly normal. Carefully kept spaces hidden beneath the castle, furnished and lived in. Tables pressed against the walls, crates stacked with methodical care, bedrolls folded rather than discarded. Signs of routine. Of people who had expected to survive long enough to care about order.
Then there were the others.
In those chambers, lycans waited.
