The castle corridors stretched endlessly before them, ancient stone walls carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and breathe in the dim torchlight. Amaniel followed Xeron through the winding passages, his footsteps echoing against the cold floor. The young-looking Emperor moved with an almost lazy grace, his hands clasped behind his back as if taking a leisurely morning stroll.
They descended deeper into the castle's heart, passing through halls that grew progressively darker and more oppressive. The air itself thickened with each step, carrying a weight that pressed against Amaniel's chest.
Finally, Xeron stopped before a massive obsidian door etched with countless runes. He raised one small hand, and the door dissolved into particles of shadow, revealing a swirling vortex of darkness beyond.
"After you," Xeron said with an innocent smile.
