I couldn't hear anything, I just ran.

The energy of the place was heavy, saturated with dust and a decadence that made my skin crawl, my legs kept moving faster and faster, the urgency was everything, in brief moments my chest tightened as if invisible claws had squeezed it but I couldn't stop. Not now. Not when Cyan was so close.

Aziel and Erwing chased me at once, trusting my instinct, their footsteps muffled by the slabs of the subfloor were charged with tension. The luminous arrows floated in front of me, guiding me delicately between the forks, adapting to each new stretch as if responding to my thoughts.

Each corridor was exactly the same as the last. Low ceilings covered with black roots, walls oozing viscous liquid and endless rooms with dusty glass cases with broken flasks, dissecting tables still covered with sheets that trembled as if something underneath was breathing. Further on we witnessed rusty cages hanging from the ceiling like rotten fruit, some empty, others full of things that could not be described as aberrations. Everything smelled of death, of failed alchemy, of despair stopped in time. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

-How much longer? -whispered Erwing, breathless.

-Almost there..." I muttered, more to myself than to them. Cyan is close. I know.

On one of the routes the corridor turned sharply, leading us to a descending ramp carved into the rock. The stones vibrated under our feet, as if we were walking on a tightrope. A reddish glow, faint and with no apparent source, illuminated the walls. The demonic energy of the place was not only felt: it was breathed. It was like inhaling live ash. It ached in our bones, it burned our skin from the inside. Every step weighed twice as much. Every breath, a battle.

-Don't stop! -I shouted, not looking back.

The ramp pushed us forward, and the corridor became an open, living, throbbing wound. The stones that covered the place looked normal, but the energy they emitted was anything but.

Finally, the last arrow stopped.

In front of a bare wall. No doors. No cracks. Just ancient stone, smooth, no trace of magic visible.

-No..." Erwing stared at the place. It can't be. There's nothing here.

But the arrow was still there. It vibrated. It throbbed like a frantic heart, pointing without hesitation at the mute stone. I approached it with staggering steps. Sweat ran down my back like melted frost. I stretched out my hand.

The stone was hot.

Not like the heat of the sun or fire, but like a body. Like living flesh.

And then, the wall seemed to come alive with a single sigh. Slow. Deep. Horribly real. Almost immediately runic symbols suddenly lit up.

One after another, like embers awakening under my gaze, ancient lines began to glow with an opaque glow, somewhere between blood red and melted amber, their outlines eerily familiar.

My breathing became a gasp. I knelt in front of the living stone as Aziel and Erwing kept their distance, their faces quite tense as they watched me. The air vibrated, the symbols beat to the rhythm of a heart I could not see.

Then I knew.

It was not a barrier. It was a key.

I ran my hand over the smooth wall, gently touching everything, letting the mana flow and curl around my fingers almost immediately the markings moved, slowly, turning like pieces of a hidden mechanism. Without thinking, guided by the instructions on my glasses, I began to arrange them. One line slid into another, one stroke rotated, folded and merged with the next. Like a puzzle, malleable, built with symbols that were similar to the tower I had entered.

The pieces fit together with a smoothness and delicacy that made it fascinating, even addictive. Each connection released a pulse of energy that made me shiver slightly and kept my blood pressure high. The wall vibrated, as if resisting, almost as if hesitating. But I did not stop.

With the last gesture, the symbols aligned into a perfect shape: a closed eye carved inside an inverted triangle. And then, without transition, it opened.

The wall gave way to us.

Literally. A dense sigh came from the wall that began to open to the sides. It was like a sliding door, but in moments like this it seemed to me like a wound opening, inside I could feel the heat coming out...

-I told them not to bother me," shouted a female voice, full of annoyance and authority, cutting the silence like a whip.

We all stopped instantly, the voice came from a dark corner inside the room, barely illuminated by mana crystals. From the heart of that silent room where nothing seemed to breathe. Our eyes were drawn to what appeared to be a large bed in the center of the room, enveloped by heavy blue velvet curtains that mingled with pale light from the crystals that adorned the room, embroidered with threads of horo that signaled its strabagance.

The bed was covered with sheets of scarlet and jet tones, and around it floated a strange aroma: a mixture of incense, dried blood and wilted flowers. There was no doubt. The voice was coming from there.

Erwing swallowed saliva, his sword wobbling slightly in his fist as he clutched it tighter. Aziel, motionless as a statue, had his eyes riveted on the opening as if waiting for something unnatural to emerge crawling from the darkness.

I stepped forward, holding my breath, every muscle in my body taut as a rope about to snap.

-Are you just going to stand there... bothering me? -repeated the voice, this time with a sickening calmness.

With that question he released a huge pressure that shook our bodies. It was not explosive magic, but a bloodlust so thick and heavy, it felt as if the air had thickened and crushed us with the weight of a presence. I felt the blood hammering in my ears.

The bed curtains fluttered windlessly. Then, with the slowness of a ritual, they were pulled aside from within.

From between the curtains emerged a woman. Tall, slender, her skin so pale it almost glowed. Her long, wavy blonde hair fell like a golden waterfall over her shoulders. Her unnaturally lifeless eyes watched us without surprise, as if she already knew we were coming.

She wore only a translucent robe that left little to the imagination, as if modesty and nudity were irrelevant to her.

My gaze dragged by curiosity descended to the bed of her quarters.

Her arm dangled over the edge of the bed. Motionless. The skin pearly with sweat, pale as wax, and the fingers stained with something dark, dry.

Between the crimson folds, trapped by the shape under the sheets. Barely, a shape was discernible, a body sunk into the bed as if the mattress had absorbed it. But then I saw the arm hanging, inert, the skin pearly with sweat, the fingers reddish.

I recognized the silhouette immediately.

-Cyan..." I said, feeling my voice crack.