The air in the dungeon was thick and oppressive, laden with the scent of damp stone and old magic. Charlotte, her face pale and tense, kept a cautious distance, while Azraiel's stern gaze never wavered from the unconscious form of Arthur lying on the rough stone floor, all thanks to the sleeping medicine mixed in his food by Katya. Matt, his expression a mask of concern, stood protectively close to Charlotte, ready for anything.
Azraiel’s voice broke the silence, a command wrapped in the velvet of his authority. "Katya.”
That was enough to make her move. Previously, she had discovered to threads of magic on Arthur. When she told Azraiel about this, he asked her to look into the matter and discover who cast spells on Arthur.
