The thick wooden door frame of the ancient stone sanctuary groaned under the sheer weight of Zeven's broad shoulder as he hurled himself into the dark interior, his heavy leather boots skidding across the cold, dust-covered stone floor. Inside the abandoned sanctuary, an oppressive and heavy stillness hung suspended in the air, completely cut off from the freezing mountain drizzle outside. The vast, cavernous hall stood wrapped in deep shadows, populated only by the grim silhouettes of large, cracked stone wolf statues that lined the perimeter like silent, crumbling sentinels. The interior atmosphere carried the distinct, stale aroma of ancient incense that had burned out centuries ago, mixed heavily with the damp smell of moldering tapestries and pulverized granite dust. Zeven slid down a
