Nolan turned away and continued forward, cloak trailing like a shadow swallowed by the corridor. Alaric and Dalvin fell in step behind him, their blades sheathed but their muscles ready, the light from the arena catching on every edge of their armor.
They walked as they spoke, the stone stairs beneath their boots ringing with each measured step. The hall felt vast and empty, an echo chamber for danger, yet packed with the kind of silence that makes small sounds shout.
"Hey, where are you taking us? Where are we going?" Dalvin called out, voice brittle with irritation and a shot of pride. He kept his hand near his sword, the motion small but obvious.
Nolan didn't break his stride. He kept his gaze forward as if the path itself answered him. "Please, shh, shh, watch and see," Nolan said. His tone was soft, almost bored, but every syllable pulled attention like a hook.
