We crouched in what used to be a ravine and now qualified as "the least on fire part of hell."The forge's glow still pulsed in the distance, lighting the clouds from below like a migraine. Every drumbeat shook ash loose from the cliffs.
Varga leaned against the rock, visor up, skin gray under the red light. "Bridge is gone," he said. "Grid's repairing itself. We need another path to the inner ring."
"Preferably one with no monsters," Elise muttered, brushing soot off her gloves.
Lucien was on one knee, sketching runes in the dust with a fingertip. Each one glowed, then guttered out. "The pulse frequency's changing. They're rerouting power. If the forge's network is symmetrical, there should be maintenance tunnels feeding the outer furnaces."
"So a back door," I said. "Nice. Love those. Usually locked, sometimes cursed."
He didn't smile. "Locked, yes. Cursed… uncertain."
