SCARLETT
The tunnel breathed around us an unsettling rhythm, as though the mountain itself had lungs. Each inhale pressed the air tight against my skin; each exhale carried a faint silver mist that tasted of frost and ash.
Kael kept a hand on the hilt of his blade, eyes sweeping every jagged wall. “This place isn’t natural. It wants us to keep moving.”
Darius’s lightning flickered across the runes we’d left behind, illuminating the path like a storm lantern. “Wants… or needs. Either way, standing still feels like suicide.”
Lucien lingered a step behind, his shadow-wolves padding silently at his feet. “Doors don’t open without reason,” he said, voice smooth as black glass. “The next trial will not wait for an invitation.”
I tightened my cloak and pushed forward. The silver flame insid
