The damp, echoing tunnel of the sea-cave didn't lead to a cramped smuggler's holding cell. As Lucien slipped deeper into the darkness, his daggers drawn, the smell of cheap ale and dirty grease began to fade. It was replaced by the crisp, clean scent of fresh spring water, blooming moon-lilies, and pure, concentrated magic.
The tunnel sloped upward, the rocky walls giving way to glowing blue moss. Lucien stepped silently around the final bend and stopped completely still.
He hadn't just found a poacher's hideout. He had stumbled into a massive, hidden sanctuary.
It was a breathtaking underground grotto, completely hollowed out inside the coastal cliffs. A wide opening at the very top of the cavern let the afternoon sunlight pour in, illuminating a crystal-clear subterranean lake. Built along the edges of the water were beautiful, woven reed houses and hanging bridges. It was a secret village. A haven for avian beast-kins.
And right now, it was a war zone.
