The group spread out cautiously across the boss chamber, torches and light spells flickering against the broken pillars and collapsed debris. The battle had left the place in ruins, but the ground bore older marks too—scratches, drag trails, and dark stains dried into the stone.
Jason crouched down, brushing a fingertip across one of the brown-red patches. "Blood," he muttered grimly.
"That doesn't mean anything," Lisa said quickly, as if to deny the obvious. "This is a dungeon. People bleed here every day."
"Yeah, but this…" Brandon trailed off, holding up a scrap of cloth he'd found snagged on a jagged rock. The once-blue fabric was shredded, stiff with dried blood.
Amy's hand flew to her mouth. "That's—"
Daniel's eyes darkened as he stepped closer. There was no mistaking it. The tattered cloth bore the insignia of their academy uniform, stitched at the edge. Oliver's uniform.
