The corridor was narrow enough that the walls seemed to lean inward, stone pressing close as if the fortress itself were listening. Torchlight flickered weakly along the passage, shadows stretching and shrinking like living things. Every step Tomora took felt louder than it should have been, his boots brushing against grit and ancient dust that hadn't been disturbed in years.
Tomora and the hooded figure creep along the dim hallway, shadows hugging their forms.
Tomora's shoulders were tight, muscles coiled, every nerve screaming at him to move faster and slower at the same time. His breathing stayed shallow, measured the way he'd been forced to learn—too loud meant death, too fast meant panic.
The chamber door is just ahead — ancient wood reinforced with iron bands.
It loomed at the end of the corridor like a challenge carved into reality. The wood was darkened with age, thick iron bands bolted across it, each etched with faint runes worn smooth by time. Power clung to it. Not loud power—old power. The kind that waited patiently.
HOODED FIGURE
(whispers)
This is it. Stay sharp.
The hooded figure dropped to one knee and slipped a roll of slim tools from beneath his cloak. His movements were practiced, almost lazy, fingers dancing along the lock with quiet confidence. Metal whispered against metal, the soft clicks nearly swallowed by the crackle of torch flames.
Tomora hovered close, eyes darting, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
Then—
CLINK.
The sound was tiny. Insignificant. The kind of sound that shouldn't matter.
A loose stone shifts beneath Tomora's foot.
Tomora's heart slammed into his throat. His foot froze mid-step as the stone settled back into place, the echo of the noise bouncing endlessly inside his skull.
TOMORA
(whispering)
Shit.
The hooded figure froze, his hand still pressed against the lock. His head tilted slightly, listening.
From around the corner, the faint sound of footsteps approaches.
Leather boots. Multiple. Measured. Not rushing. Confident.
HOODED FIGURE
We've got company.
Tomora's pulse spiked. His vision sharpened, the world narrowing to motion and sound. His fingers curled, instinct screaming at him to fight, to run, to do something reckless.
TOMORA
Then we don't have time. Go!
The hooded figure didn't argue. One final twist—
The door clicks open.
They slipped inside quickly, the heavy door groaning softly as it shut behind them. Tomora barely had time to turn before the footsteps outside quickened, voices murmuring just beyond the wood.
The room beyond swallowed them whole.
The room glows faintly from mystical runes carved into the walls.
Soft blue light pulsed from symbols etched into stone, casting warped shadows across the chamber. The air hummed faintly, like a held breath. At the center stood a pedestal carved from black marble, its surface etched with sigils of authority and control.
In the center, the scroll rests on an ornate pedestal.
Tomora didn't think. He moved.
His legs carried him forward, boots skidding slightly as he reached the pedestal. His hands shook as he lifted the scroll free, the parchment warm against his palms.
Tomora rushes to it, heart pounding.
The hooded figure positioned himself near the door, body angled, ready. His posture had shifted—less joking now, more predator.
TOMORA
(grabbing the scroll)
Got it! Let's move!
The chamber answered him with violence.
Suddenly — a hidden trap activates! Arrows shoot from the walls!
Stone panels snapped open with brutal speed. The first arrow missed Tomora's head by inches, burying itself deep into the pedestal behind him. Another shattered against a pillar.
They dive for cover as arrows thud into the walls around them.
Tomora rolled, clutching the scroll to his chest, heart hammering as arrows screamed past. The hooded figure slid behind a pillar, cloak snapping as metal slammed into stone where his head had been a moment before.
Arrows fly past Tomora and the hooded figure as they dodge behind pillars, panting.
Then the door burst open.
Heavy boots thundered against the stone floor as a massive figure strode in, cape billowing despite the still air. Armor clinked softly with each step, etched plates catching the rune-light.
Suddenly, one of the great generals OF the BLACK IRON storms in, cape billowing, looking fierce — but his expression quickly shifts to confusion as he sees the two scrambling awkwardly.
general OF BLACK IRON
(booming voice)
What in the hell is going on here?! Who the hell are you two?!
Tomora popped up from behind the pillar at the worst possible moment, ducking another arrow as panic hijacked his brain.
TOMORA
(dodging an arrow, shouting)
Uh… We're… uh… tourists! Yeah, just sightseeing! Very exclusive tour!
The hooded figure leaned out just enough to smirk, brushing dust from his sleeve like this was mildly inconvenient.
HOODED FIGURE
(smirking)
That's right, big guy. You gotta see the arrow traps. Real crowd-pleaser.
The general stared.
His brow furrowed. One eyebrow twitched.
Before he could respond, Tomora's foot caught on rubble. He stumbled forward and crashed directly into the hooded figure, sending them both sprawling across the floor.
TOMORA
(grimacing)
Nice save, sensei.
HOODED FIGURE
(mock offended)
Hey! I'm trying here! You're the one who runs like a headless chicken!
The general folded his arms slowly, lips twitching despite himself.
general OF BLACK IRON
(stern, but a little amused)
You two better start explaining — or I'm making you both my personal training dummies.
Tomora and the hooded figure locked eyes.
TOMORA & HOODED FIGURE
(sarcastic)
Great.
And somewhere deep in the fortress, more footsteps began to run.