The northern corridor felt like a stone oven.
The obsidian walls reflected the faint glow of crimson runes. Sulfurous vapor crept along the floor, carrying a stifling heat that stung the lungs.
While Riven surged north, Roland traversed the same corridor toward the underground city. Naya and Dom trailed behind him, merging with the shadows. The northern passage led straight to the subterranean city, and directly to the throne room.
Roland Sudrath's footsteps struck the slick stone without a hint of hesitation. His white shirt was already soiled with soot and limestone dust. The stinging pain from the slash on his shoulder throbbed incessantly, but the young man's expression remained entirely unchanged. As cold as frozen marble.
Behind him, Naya and Dom moved soundlessly like dead shadows. Naya kept a tight grip on the hilts of her twin daggers. Dom's dark eyes continuously scanned every crevice of the tunnel.
