The elderly Warden led Damon through the lower-level corridors of the Headquarters.
The halls here were darker and narrower than the main floor, which was several layers above them. The crystal lights were spaced farther apart, casting long shadows along the stone walls.
Their footsteps echoed softly. The deeper they went, the quieter it became. Fewer Magi passed by. Then none at all.
Faint runes appeared more frequently on the walls and floor. They were etched deep into the stone, old and worn. The air gradually grew heavy, cool, and then stale. It felt harder to breathe, as if the space itself was pressing on him.
It was only then that Adam realized what was going on.
I'm… nervous, he thought to himself.
He had every right to feel nervous. Before coming here, he had forced the real Nyle Damon to send coded messages to the other traitorous Councilors, calling them to an emergency meeting. None of this would have been possible without him.
