The staircase seemed to stretch into infinity.
It was a wide, spiraling descent carved from pale blue stone, floating in a void of dark mist. There were no walls, no railings—just the steps spiraling down into the abyss. The only light came from the floating runes that drifted like fireflies in the dark.
Click. Click. Click.
Their footsteps echoed in a rhythm that felt slightly off-beat, as if the dungeon itself was breathing out of sync with them.
Oliver took point, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his rune-sword. Behind him, Amy and Sophia walked close together, their staffs glowing with defensive light.
The silence was heavy, oppressive. It was the kind of silence that demanded to be filled.
"So…" Amy's voice cut through the quiet, echoing slightly. She quickened her pace to walk a half-step behind Oliver. "The Princess… Her Highness Elisha speaks very highly of you."
Oliver didn't look back, keeping his eyes on the shifting mist. "Does she?"
