The scent of ale and wood smoke clung to the air, mingling with the faint crackle of a dying hearth. The inn's dim lighting cast long shadows against the wooden walls, a comforting contrast to the suffocating darkness of the mines. Kael pushed through the door, his boots dragging against the floorboards. He barely registered the bartender's nod or the quiet murmur of voices in the common room.
He was too tired to care. Too drained to even acknowledge the warmth of a place that wasn't crawling with skittering legs and eerie, pulsing runes.
Liora followed him in, moving with far more ease, though there was something different in his usual fluid stride—something heavier, like he was walking in step with ghosts only he could see. He didn't speak, didn't throw out a teasing remark like he normally would. That alone unsettled Kael more than the silence of the mines had.
