The stone corridor swallowed their footsteps in silence.
No words were exchanged. There was only the echoing thud of boots against stone and the hiss of sulfurous steam creeping through the cracks in the walls. Crimson runes lining the tunnel to the underground city pulsed steadily, guiding their path. Riven took the lead, his black Wolf cloak draped over his shoulders. The bandages on his left arm had dried into a crusty, dark-brown hue.
His eyes stared straight ahead. Hollow.
It wasn't regret weighing heavy on his chest. He knew damn well that what just happened wasn't a mistake. Yet, something felt unfinished—something lingering in the air ever since that massive body was swallowed by the lava. Riven hated loose ends.
Behind him, Rianor limped along. His left arm hung limp, the completely dead Arcanotech Bracer dangling like useless scrap metal. His finely cracked glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose, but he didn't even bother pushing them back up.
