The watchtower loomed over the forest, its stone walls weathered by time and nature's steady encroachment. Vines crept along its base, curling like fingers around the crumbling structure. The wooden staircase creaked ominously beneath Taryn and Lucien's boots as they ascended, their steps wary.
"Great vantage point," Lucien muttered, casting a glance out the narrow windows as they climbed. "Terrible living conditions."
Taryn gave a short laugh, more out of habit than humor. "Not everything has to be five-star, Lucien."
They reached the top floor, an open space with remnants of old furniture—a splintered table, a few overturned chairs, and a desk pushed against the far wall. Taryn moved to the desk, her sharp eyes scanning for the telltale signs of a hidden compartment.
"Keep watch," she said without looking back. "I'll handle this."
