Layla moved silently through the cold tunnels beneath Blackthorne’s stronghold, the dim torchlight flickering against damp stone walls. The air was thick with dust and the lingering scent of iron, a hidden artery pulsing beneath her father’s domain. The walls were lined with crude markings, sigils she vaguely recognized from the old texts symbols of war, dominance, and something far darker. The tunnel stretched endlessly, winding deeper into the earth, as if it had been carved not for passage, but for secrecy.
She had known there were secrets buried here, but nothing prepared her for the scale of what she was uncovering.
Stacks of weapons lined the passageways, blades, crossbows, crates of silver-tipped arrows. More than just an arsenal for defense, this was preparation for war. Every tu
