More Sixty Blades in the Dark
A narrow, long-forgotten corridor stretched behind the counter of the Iron Mug tavern—hidden behind a loose panel of old wood, its planks aged and warped with time, like no one had noticed them in years. To most, it was just part of the tavern's battered shell. Nothing more. But when that hidden panel slid aside with a low, tired groan, it opened to something colder. Something deeper.
A stairwell. Stone-carved. Falling into shadows that didn't move, that didn't breathe.
