Morgana, Kirin, and Lyana hurried out of the chamber, the air still thick with the lingering energy of the renewed oaths. Every step they took felt like a race against time. The Iron Fists wouldn't take long to realize that their plans had been thwarted, and when they did, there would be no mercy.
Kirin led the way through the winding passages, his sword drawn, ready for any further attacks. His breathing was steady now, but his eyes flickered with the tension of a man who knew a battle was inevitable. Lyana followed closely behind, her staff still glowing faintly from the surge of magic they had channeled in the altar room.
"That was close," Lyana muttered, her voice low but tense. "We were barely able to hold them off. If they come at us in force, I'm not sure we'll be so lucky next time."
