Talyn's blade cracked through the ancient stone on the third strike, and a guard on the other side barely had time to turn before Ottilie's dagger found his throat through the gap.
"Move!" Ottilie hissed, widening the breach with her shoulder.
They spilled through one by one, into a narrow corridor lit by dim torchlight, the air thick with something that smelled faintly of old blood and older stone. Two more guards rounded the corner ahead, and Fira dropped the first with a thrown blade before either could raise an alarm.
Talyn finished the second fast, silent, his ribs screaming under the temporary stitching Senna had applied hours ago.
"Clear," Talyn whispered.
"For now," Ottilie said, scanning both directions. "This corridor branches. We need to move fast before someone notices the
