Luna pried the metal fingers apart one by one, ignoring the cold that seeped into her skin. The key slid free with a wet sound, heavier than it looked, its surface etched with sigils worn smooth by repeated use.
A keeper's key.
She then rose, slipping the key into her pouch, and advanced toward the inner corridor beyond the gatekeeper's post. By now, her mana was already recovered by three-fourths, and in half a minute, it would be recovered completely.
After a while, the architecture narrowed immediately.
Gone were the wide halls meant for nobles and ceremony.
These passages were lower, tighter, built for servants who were not meant to linger or be seen.
The stone here was older, darker, damp with a moisture that smelled faintly of iron. Her footsteps echoed too loudly, the sound stretching ahead of her and coming back wrong, delayed, as though something listened before answering.
She took a few steps before the first scream broke the silence.
It came from above.
