They ran.
Through abandoned corridors lit only by the fading shimmer of the sacred dome above. The deeper they moved, the more the light dimmed. Stone gave way to something older—walls lined with root and bone, air thick with the weight of unsaid things.
Noir led them without pause.
Her shadow melted into the ground beneath her paws, guiding Charlotte, Garron, Laziel, and the remaining Holy Guards through turns and blind passages that no human could have found alone.
The further they went, the more the world grew… wrong.
They stopped.
Before them stood a massive archway—one that shouldn't exist—woven from twisted stone and faded runes, half-swallowed by the earth.
Noir turned once to look at Charlotte.
Then walked through it.
The others hesitated.
One of the guards spoke quietly. "That… doesn't feel right."
Charlotte didn't wait.
She stepped forward and passed through the illusion.
The moment she did, the world changed.
Sound vanished.
Light bent.
