Amberine's mind raced, the tension in the air as thick as the oppressive magic that pulsed through the tower. Every breath felt heavy, every movement strained. But amidst all the chaos, one thought kept rising above the rest—a single sliver of hope she clung to like a lifeline.
Draven's office.
It wasn't just a vague notion or desperate guess. She had been there once before, during a particularly intense lecture when Professor Draven had called her and a few others for a private demonstration of magical artifacts. She remembered the glowing crystal set on his desk, a means to contact him or his assistant in case of emergencies. The memory was so clear now, even as the tower crumbled and monsters clawed at its very structure.
