The tunnel was quiet now. Too quiet. The echoes of battle had faded, leaving only the faint drip of water and the heavy breathing of two figures moving through the dark. Damien's hand brushed against the wall as they walked, his eyes narrowed.
Luton and Fenrir rejoined him first, the slime rippling in faint agitation while the wolf padded silently at his side.
Then, forty minutes later, a familiar shadow swooped in gently—the griffin, Aquila, wings folding neatly as it landed in the cramped space.
"All done," Damien murmured, studying each of them. Their presence told him what he needed to know—the tunnels were all now cleared. Whatever beasts had been lured or bred into the passageways were gone.
Lyone, perched eagerly on Aquila's back, leaned forward. "So… we're done? Heading out now?"
