The governor's building loomed ahead, its stone walls lined with watchful eyes. Guards in heavy armor stood at their posts, weapons sheathed but hands never far from their hilts. Despite the familiarity of Kael's presence, they did not lower their guard completely. Their gazes swept the surroundings like hawks, searching for the slightest disturbance.

  At the entrance, a guard raised a hand, halting them. "Kael," he called, his voice edged with authority.

  Kael stepped forward, exchanging hushed words with the man. A moment later, the guard gave a short nod and gestured for the team to pass.

  As they moved through the gates, Ishar tilted his head, his voice laced with suspicion. "No checking today?"

  Kael didn't even glance back. "Small perk for doing the governor's request."

  Beside him, Lyria walked in silence. Her expression was unreadable, her thoughts locked behind a blank stare.

  The deeper they ventured, the more imposing the structure became. Soon, they arrived before a massive iron gate, guarded by a hulking figure. The man stood motionless, his presence alone enough to deter intruders. Kael reached into his pocket, retrieved a small badge, and tossed it. The guard caught it effortlessly, inspected it with a slow, deliberate glance, then flicked it back before stepping aside. With one massive hand, he pulled the lever beside the gate.

  With a groan, the screwing mechanism clanked to life. The iron gate shuddered, its old bones creaking as it slowly parted. Beyond it, a spiraling staircase stretched upward, disappearing into the darkness above.

  His brows furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line as he eyed the seemingly endless ascent.

  There were few things in life he truly despised. Betrayal. Hypocrisy. The nagging feeling of being watched in an empty room.

  And worst of them all—these damned stairs.

  A never-ending, soul-crushing climb that served no purpose other than to drain the life out of his legs. Every step felt like a personal insult, a test of endurance he wanted no part of. It wasn't the physical strain that bothered him; it was the sheer, mind-numbing monotony. Up and up, step after step, as if the architect had some personal vendetta against convenience.

  His sigh came slow and measured, his hands clenching briefly before relaxing. "I swear this place was built to torture people."

  Kael spared him a glance but said nothing, already starting the ascent. The others followed, boots striking against stone in a dull, rhythmic thud.

  Ishar lingered for a moment longer, staring up at the spiraling path ahead. Then, with a resigned breath, he stepped forward, accepting his fate.

  They moved in a single line, their ascent slow and steady. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the narrow stairwell, each thud against the stone a dull reminder of the long climb ahead. The air grew heavier the higher they went, thick with the scent of aged stone and faint traces of damp earth.

  The walls around them were not fully enclosed—patches of soil had been dug open at intervals, likely to reinforce the structure. The crude reinforcements gave the space an unfinished, almost cavernous feel, as if the fortress had been carved rather than built. A reminder that beneath all its grandeur, it was still just stone and earth.

  Step after step, their boots struck the cold concrete in an unchanging rhythm. No one spoke. Conversation felt unnecessary, drowned out by the sheer monotony of the climb. The spiral twisted onward, every turn revealing yet another set of steps that looked identical to the last. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Even though Ishar had climbed these stairs before, the journey never seemed to get shorter.

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  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the staircase reached its end. A small wooden door stood before them—a stark contrast to the massive iron gate at the base. It was unimpressive, almost deceptively ordinary, yet it marked the transition from the endless climb to whatever awaited beyond.

  Kael stepped forward and knocked three times. A muffled shuffling sounded from within, followed by the creak of the door swinging open.

  A guard stood in the doorway, his face impassive as he extended his hand, palm open in silent expectation. Without hesitation, Kael reached into his pocket, producing the same badge he had used before. The guard inspected it with a glance before stepping aside, allowing them entry.

  The chamber beyond was dimly lit, its air thick with a stony chill. The walls, rougher than the corridors below, absorbed more light than they reflected, giving the space an oppressive, weighty atmosphere. Flickering torches lined the passage ahead, their feeble glow casting shifting shadows across the uneven stone.

  Kael led the way, navigating through the corridors with the ease of someone well-acquainted with the place. Guards loomed in the periphery, stationed at various points, their watchful eyes tracking every movement. Among them, a few figures in plain robes hurried past, too preoccupied with their own affairs to spare the newcomers more than a glance.

  As they stepped toward the open archways ahead, a cool gust of wind rushed in from the windows carved into the fortress walls. Ishar inhaled sharply, the fresh air cutting through the lingering scent of damp stone. Beyond the narrow openings, the world outside stretched far and wide—the bustling camps below, the endless forest at the horizon, and the sun, hanging high in the milky-blue sky.

  A brief moment of respite.

  They descended a broad set of stone steps, leaving the dim corridors of the fortress behind. As they stepped outside, the world stretched open before them. The sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows over the bustling courtyard below. Knights moved in coordinated drills, the clash of steel against steel ringing through the air. Others sparred in heated duels, their grunts of exertion blending with the rhythmic stomping of boots on packed earth.

  His gaze flicked to Kael, then to Rudrik. "So where is it?" His voice carried just enough edge to betray his impatience.

  Rudrik barely spared him a glance, adjusting the strap of his satchel before replying, "A little inside the forest."

  No further explanation. Just that.

  Ishar exhaled, shaking off his unease. They moved quickly, passing through the fortress gates and onto the open roads leading toward the tree line. The dense woodland loomed ahead, its thick canopy swallowing the sunlight. The moment they entered, the temperature shifted—the air cooled, the damp scent of moss and old bark replacing the arid dust of the training grounds.

  The journey stretched on. Hours passed in near silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of undergrowth or the distant cries of unseen creatures. The deeper they ventured, the more the forest seemed to close in around them, the towering trees blotting out the sky.

  The descent toward the dungeon was quick, the group carving through the scattered monsters with ease. Goblins, mangy wolves, and the occasional lone crawler—a pitiful mix of small fry, barely enough to slow their pace. Kael's sword flickered, cutting down a goblin before it could let out a proper scream. Rudrik loosed a single arrow, taking down a wolf mid-lunge.

  Ishar moved instinctively, his sword slicing through the throat of a crawler before it could snap at him. The fight was efficient, effortless. Yet something nagged at him.

  These monsters—something was off about them.

  They weren't attacking in full force, nor were they defending their territory as usual. Instead, they hesitated, their movements frantic and unfocused. A goblin that should have charged at them instead scrambled backward, its beady eyes darting toward the path ahead before Kael cut it down. A wolf had lunged at Ishar, but not with the usual hunger of a desperate predator—its body was tense, more like an animal startled into acting rather than one hunting for a meal.

  Ishar had noticed it after the third skirmish. Even when Rudrik's arrow struck a wolf and it let out a pained yelp, there was no response. No other wolves answering the call. The creatures weren't acting like they were defending their home.

  They were acting like they were fleeing.

  His grip tightened around his sword. He glanced at the others. No sign of concern. Kael pressed forward without hesitation, Rudrik's focus remained steady, and Lyria—she hadn't spoken a word since they'd left the fortress.

  Maybe they hadn't noticed. Maybe they had and just didn't care.

  Ishar exhaled, forcing the unease down. But as they neared the dungeon's entrance, he couldn't shake the feeling that the monsters weren't running from them.

  They were running from something up head.