The rebels stormed through the upper levels of the Arbiter's castle, their boots thundering against polished marble floors as they cleared room after room. Each chamber they entered told the same story of luxury.
Lysara kicked open another door, her blades ready. Behind her, Kael followed, his sword drawn and eyes scanning the room for movement. The room was empty, save for a table covered in half-eaten delicacies and a bottle of wine still pouring into a crystal cup, suggesting a hasty departure.
"Empty," Lysara growled. She turned to Kael, her frustration evident. "Where are they?"
"They wouldn't flee the castle," Kael said, though his voice wavered uncertainly. "They think themselves untouchable. They'd hole up somewhere."
From another room, a shout rang out. Amara emerged, dragging a trembling servant by the arm. The young woman, dressed in the plain garb of the castle staff, was pale and full of tears.
