Ch. 190: Riot
The tension in the Underworld was palpable as we emerged from Tartarus. The investigation of the cracks had yielded more questions than answers. Ancient sigils pulsed faintly along the fissures, humming with primal energy that defied all logic and magic we knew. The revelation that someone—or something—was attempting to use Tartarus as a gateway weighed heavily on us as we crossed the boundary back into the Underworld's cities.
Arman, his serpentine features etched with worry, had been uncharacteristically quiet. Talos walked ahead, her mechanical frame glinting in the dim light, every step deliberate as if each carried the weight of her thoughts. Hecate, ever the watchful guardian, stayed close by, her staff radiating a faint, protective glow. And Charon trailed behind, his skeletal form a silent reminder of the Underworld's timelessness.
The city we entered was not the one we had left.
