As Alaric and Gilbert approached the final chamber, the air grew thicker with tension, as though the very ruins themselves were aware of the violence about to unfold. Their familiars, sensing the end of their task, began to dissolve into shimmering particles of light, retreating into the shadows from which they had come. The familiars had done their duty, eliminating every guard and obstacle that stood in Alaric's path. Now, it was just the two of them.
The large stone doors of the chamber loomed before them, cracked and ancient, a barrier that had stood for centuries. Alaric's hand rested on the cold surface for a moment, feeling the residual energy of the place, the faint traces of the Hangrove Clan's magic. But it wouldn't be enough to protect them now.
Gilbert stood at his side, calm and composed as always, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. "Are you ready, Master?" he asked quietly, though he already knew the answer.
