"Feels empty," Vale noted as he descended with the group.
After making sure everyone had safely made it off the Dragon's back, he dismissed the Spirit. The creature vanished into thin air, leaving behind only a faint shimmer of mana.
The group made their way through the castle gates and toward the main entrance. Nobody stood outside. An unusual sight—but considering how many people had recently died, perhaps staying indoors felt like the safer option.
Before long, they were inside the castle. The hallways stretched out before them, eerily quiet. Ezra called out the names of those who'd stayed behind, but no one answered.
A creeping unease settled in Vale's chest. He kept walking, but each step sent a faint echo through the halls, as if the building itself was whispering warnings. His footsteps felt heavier with every passing second.
They wandered the castle for minutes that felt like hours, their pace slowed by dread, until finally they reached the throne room.
