Draven moved deeper into the dungeon, the air growing colder with every step. The atmosphere was dense with malevolent energy, the kind that could break the minds of lesser magicians. But Draven's steps were steady, his sharp mind analyzing the surroundings with calm precision. He could sense the magic flowing through the stone, its chaotic patterns telling him a story of forgotten power, of necromancers who had once ruled these halls and the curses they had left behind. To Draven, it was more than history—it was an opportunity to surpass his own limits.