"Anya, Lucan, Bastian. Equip yourselves. We have time. There's no rush. And when Drakka leads us into the first chamber, just remember that we're not actually in a hurry."
Anya's hands had stopped trembling. Her breathing had regularized. Whatever anxiety was still present in her had at least been contained to manageable levels.
Lucan moved toward the supply caches with movements that were significantly less frantic than before. There was still desperation in his posture, but it had been paired with something like a sense of purpose.
Bastian's ambient heat had cooled enough that the air around him was no longer visibly warping. He was still nervous, that would never change, but he was no longer on the edge of a meltdown.
--------
Fifteen minutes passed excruciatingly slowly.
The preparation bays fell into rhythmic, mechanical activity. Weapons being tested, gear being verified, magical beasts being checked over by their handlers.
