The cleared tunnel opened into a wider space—the sub-levels beneath the Academy's kitchen wing, as Captain Aldric had predicted. It was a utilitarian labyrinth of rough stone walls, exposed piping, and the skeletal remains of ancient heating systems long since decommissioned. The air was marginally fresher here, carrying faint, distant traces of cooking smoke and the metallic tang of the massive stoves above. But the promise of exit was cruelly withheld.
The stairwell was a corpse.
