The door did not budge.
Iron bars scraped against their brackets from the other side, barred.
Quinlan did not slow.
He pushed once.
The bars tore free with a sharp metallic shriek, the entire locking frame ripping out of the stone as if it had been rotten wood. The door swung inward and slammed against the wall.
The sound carried.
Inside, something shifted.
A sharp intake of breath. Several, actually. Then hurried whispers, tight and desperate.
"The enemies are here!"
"Quiet!"
"Don't move!"
"Shut up!"
Quinlan stepped inside.
Darkness swallowed the space beyond the doorway, thick and stale. His eyes burned as they shifted, a deep red glow bleeding into his pupils. The room resolved at once.
Servants.
They were huddled together near the far wall, bodies pressed close, hands over mouths. Some crouched. Some clung to each other. One dropped to their knees outright, praying. Their eyes locked onto him, widening as the red light caught their faces.
