The servant passage was too narrow for heroes.
That was my first good sign.
Aiden had to turn his shoulders sideways to enter. Liora muttered something about noble architecture despite the fact that no noble had ever willingly designed a corridor this useful. Seraphina ducked without complaint, golden light dimmed under her palms so it would not spill through cracks and announce us to every hungry echo nearby.
Ren walked in the center.
Not behind me.
Not ahead.
Center.
His shadow clung to his feet with the nervous determination of something that had recently learned independence was overrated.
The passage smelled like old soap, rust, dust, and something faintly sweet that might have been dried flowers or dead magic. Pipes ran along the ceiling, though no sane academy plumber had installed them. Marks scratched into the left wall appeared every few dozen steps.
Three short lines.
A circle with a slash.
A tiny cup shape.
Ren read them under his breath.
