The service stairwell was a suffocating, downward spiral of tight stone and trapped heat.
The smoke from the fires below had nowhere to escape, turning the narrow passage into a blinding chimney.
Zain descended the steps as fast as he could, his boots slipping slightly on the grit, his arms locked securely around Eiravyne's frame.
Elara pushed ahead to clear the way, while Martha clutched the back of Zain's tunic, coughing violently in the dark.
Suddenly, the rhythmic echo of their own footsteps was drowned out by a deafening, metallic roar echoing up from the depths.
Heavy, iron-shod boots were sprinting up the spiral toward them.
"Movement above!" a harsh voice boomed through the stone corridor. "Clear the upper levels! Anyone descending is a traitor..take them down!"
Before Elara could even shout a warning, a royal vanguard squad rounded the curve of the stairs, their gold-trimmed shields raised and swords drawn.
