The soldiers stacked rubble higher, muttering prayers beneath their breath. The commander avoided the dais entirely, never letting his eyes stray to its grooves.
Only Lindarion carried the echo of the system's fractured words.
Only he heard the faint tremor in Ashwing's voice, the childish panic bleeding through.
And though he betrayed nothing on his face, Lindarion knew one truth buried beneath the ruin:
The demihumans had not only soared. They had also bled. And this chamber remembered both.
—
The stairwell narrowed as they descended. Torchlight scraped the walls, casting shadows that bent at angles too sharp for stone. The humans walked slower now, every bootstep echoing like a trespass. Nysha stayed close, her crimson eyes flicking across every surface, shadows twitching around her wrists like restless animals.
Lindarion didn't speak. He didn't need to. The silence pressed hard enough.
