Soren turned from the guards and faced the massive iron door. He didn't reach for a key. He placed his hand over the glowing runes, and his own ice magic recognized its master.
The runes pulsed a brilliant, searing blue, and the locks clicked back with a series of heavy thuds. The door swung inward with an ominous, slow creak.
The moment he stepped across the threshold, Soren knew. The air in the inner corridor was different... there was a lingering residue of foreign mana. It was faint, fading like a dying ember, but it was there. Someone had been here. Recently.
He walked the twenty feet toward the inner bars, his boots echoing with a slow, deliberate THUD. THUD. THUD. He measured the space with his presence, his magic expanding to fill every crack in the stone.
As he approached, he heard it. A faint murmur. A voice. Vetra's voice. She was speaking, her tone low and conspiratorial. He couldn't make out the words, but the cadence was unmistakable. She was in a conversation.
