The door groaned open, hinges straining.
Leon stepped in first.
The cold hit like a blade—sharp down the spine. Stone walls closed in, torchlight flickering from iron sconces shaped like ribs. The air stank of old steel and older rot. Deeper still, magic. Buried. Watching.
The Bone Chamber lay beneath the main barracks—sealed behind double wards, always under guard. Not because it was sacred.
Because it was dangerous.
No windows. No exit but back.
Inside, the light bent wrong.
Fena followed, torch in hand. Her face didn't move, but her knuckles were pale against the grip.
Leon didn't speak.
They descended in silence.
No instructors. No guides.
That was the rule.
The chamber tested what you brought with you.
And what you couldn't leave behind.
At the bottom, a wide stone pit opened before them. Bone-white symbols carved into every surface, glowing faint as ivory in shadow. In the center—one platform. Black. Smooth.
Enough for one.
Fena nodded.
