The lockpick felt foreign in my fingers after weeks of disuse, but muscle memory took over as I worked at the simple mechanism. The lock was designed to keep prisoners in, not skilled infiltrators out, and within minutes I heard the satisfying click of tumblers falling into place.
The corridor beyond was dimly lit by flickering torches, and I could hear the chaos spreading through the compound above. Voices shouted orders, feet pounded on stone floors, and beneath it all was the unmistakable sound of panic. Kael's collapse had thrown the entire fortress into disarray.
Perfect.
I slipped from my cell like a ghost, keeping to the shadows as I made my way toward the service stairs. The guards who had been posted outside my door were gone—presumably called away to deal with the emergency. I
