MAERWYNN POVThe moment my boot hit dry stone, I could’ve wept.After what felt like an endless crawl through cold, ankle-deep filth, we’d finally reached solid ground. The sewer tunnel ended in a small, domed chamber, its air stale but mercifully dry. I leaned against the wall, catching my breath, when Lira lifted one palm, flicking her fingers with a little grunt.Thin threads of water began peeling away from our soaked clothes, spiraling into a suspended ball of moisture hovering in the air. She snapped her fingers, and it dispersed into mist.“Better,” she said, brushing her damp hair out of her face.We all turned.To a single iron door stood carved into the stone, edges rimmed with faint runes, old and rust-streaked.“This is it,” Lira said, her voice low.Weapons were drawn with the soft hiss of steel and enchanted blades. Even the air seemed tense, expectant. Valen reached for the door, placing his palm on the old, cold iron and slowly easing it open. A sliver of hallway emerg
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