The lock ground to a halt with a final, resonant clunk. The massive bronze door stood sealed, but the complex web of amber light across its surface had dissolved, leaving only the cold, inert metal. The five of us at the nodes released our hands, the abrupt cessation of channeling leaving a phantom ache in our bones. A collective breath, held tight during the delicate operation, rushed out into the tense silence.
We had done it. The ward was disarmed. The door was… just a door now. The immediate, magical crisis was past, but the human one had only deepened.
Gregor's faction clustered on the left side of the staircase landing, their faces tight with the resentment of sidelined power. Gregor himself glared at the door as if it had personally insulted him. "Took long enough," he grumbled, loud enough for all to hear. "Now what? Another lever? Another puzzle?" His words were aimed at Alaric and Beatrice, but his sidelong glance at me was a venomous dart.
