It was a risky choice to move forward without any plans, but the entire battle with the Mother of Stillbirths had proven one thing. No plan was absolute. No one could see the future.
With each step he took, Damon pushed himself further into an uncertain fate. His breathing steadied, then sharpened as the cold air of the cavern brushed across his skin.
The path to the next trial was nothing but a silent wall. As they approached it, Damon lifted the key taken from the slain Mother of Stillbirths. The cavern trembled.
The stone cracked. The wall split open like a wounded beast revealing its ribs.
Damon stepped through first, shoulders squared, jaw tight. Lazarak followed in his small childlike form, shadowed eyes flicking over every corner.
Matia trailed behind them with slow, measured steps, her fingers resting near the hilt of her sword out of habit.
