The mountain shuddered once, then settled.
The white fire in the furnace didn't explode. Didn't rage or roar or consume. It simply... changed.
The flames shifted from blinding white to warm amber, like sunset caught in glass. Then they dimmed further, settling into a soft, steady glow—the kind of glow you'd see in a well-banked hearth.
It was comfortable and contained. So while the furnace still existed, it was no longer sending signals, asking to be fed.
Marron stared, waiting for something more. Waiting for the mountain to collapse or the walls to crack or something dramatic.
Instead, the marble around them seemed to breathe. The oppressive weight that had pressed down on the chamber lifted like morning fog. The stone settled with small creaks and sighs, adjusting to its new state.
The dungeon wasn't destroyed.
It was just... done.
There was an eerie air of calm around them now, and Marron wondered how long until it would affect all the mimics on the lower floors.
