The morning air's chill was refreshing as we emerged from the Underground room that Cedric had named the "Dragon's" Lair," the remnants of its smoky, sulfurous atmosphere lingering on our cloaks. Silas, Talon, and I moved with a practiced, deliberate grace, the rugged terrain beneath our boots a mere afterthought compared to the grandeur of our steps. Cedric walked beside us, his presence a calming anchor in the storm of our existence.
As we returned to the chambers, the conversation began to flow naturally, a balm against the backdrop of our recent intense encounters. Silas, ever the strategist, was the first to speak. "We have been in there for two days, I bet the guards are wondering as to where we went," he remarked, his voice carrying a sharp, analytical edge.
Talon, whose silence was usually as imposing as his stature, grunted in agreement. "Indeed."
