The den’s halls were quiet, though not with peace. It was the quiet of a storm waiting to break, each step and breath carrying the weight of what they were about to do.
Armor lay stacked in the chamber Kaelen had given them, black as night and lined with subtle runes that shimmered faintly under torchlight. Each piece looked heavier than a mountain stone, yet when Balder lifted a breastplate from its rack, his brows rose.
“It’s light,” he muttered, testing the weight in his palms. “Lighter than our own.”
Kairos leaned against the stone arch, arms crossed, a faint grin cutting across his stern features. “Dragon hide,” he explained simply. “Tempered with spells old enough to outlive memory. Strong as steel, but it won’t slow your stride.”
Sarah tilted her head, fingers brushing along one
