The massive stone door groaned as it slid open, revealing a darkness so absolute it felt like a living thing. The torches behind them flickered wildly, casting erratic shadows across the ancient walls. For a moment, no one moved. The air that spilled from beyond the threshold was cold—colder than the ruins had any right to be—and it carried the scent of damp earth, old metal, and something faintly sweet, like decayed flowers.
Elena tightened her grip on the hilt of her dagger. “Stay close,” she whispered, though her voice barely carried over the ominous hush of the chamber ahead.
Kael stepped forward first, his blades drawn, eyes sharp and calculating. Taren followed, his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword, while Serin murmured a quiet incantation, his fingers crackling with a fain
