Luna knelt beside the collapsed armor and worked her fingers under the cold metal of the gauntlet.
One plated finger at a time, she pried them open.
The joints resisted like they still remembered purpose.
A faint metallic chill seeped into her skin, but she ignored it.
Finally, the grip gave way with a small, wet scrape. A key tumbled free into her palm—heavier than it should have been for its size, surface covered in worn sigils that looked like they'd been touched thousands of times.
A keeper's key.
She closed her fingers around it, felt the faint thrum of old magic still lingering in the metal, then slipped it into the pouch at her belt.
Standing, she glanced once more at the empty armor plates scattered across the stone like discarded shells.
Whatever had held them together was gone now. She turned toward the corridor beyond the massive door. The chains lay in a loose heap; the runes had faded to dull scratches.
