The ancient iron doors of the Isolation Chamber creaked open, their echo crawling through the hollow corridors beneath the castle. The torches along the walls flickered one by one as Luther descended the spiral steps, his boots scraping against the stone floor. The deeper he went, the heavier the air grew. The chamber was meant to suppress energy, to drown any trace of magic or aura—but tonight, it was trembling.
Luther stopped before the sealed gates. Massive, ancient, carved from obsidian and bone. Runes spiraled across its surface, glowing faintly with crimson light, as if reacting to something within. He hesitated only a moment before pressing his palm against the surface. The sigils dimmed at his touch and then split open, parting to reveal the inner sanctum.
Inside lay Xavier.
