The spiral staircase descended deep into the volcanic bedrock, driving them relentlessly toward the heart of the Tower
Nathan led the primary assault group down those ancient, groaning steps. Moonlight was already drawn, the polished wood gleaming in the heavy, ambient gold light bleeding up from the depths. The Tower's heartbeat was no longer just an echoing sound; it was a physical, seismic force—thrum-thrum-thrum—vibrating violently through the stone and shivering deep into his marrow. The air was suffocatingly hot, thick with the metallic tang of sulfur and the heavy, sweet scent of ancient magic.
