The sun had already begun its descent by the time they finally emerged from the dungeon's mouth, weary but alive. The fresh air hit them like a blessing—cool, sweet, and utterly free of sulfur and blood.
Inigo was the first to step out, Wheeler trailing obediently behind him. The others followed in silence, the weight of their victory—and their loot—beginning to settle in.
"Feels like we've been down there for days," Lyra muttered, squinting at the sky.
"Because we have," Serina replied, slinging her cloak over one shoulder. "Three full days, by my count."
Elira leaned on her staff, her ribs still sore despite healing magic. "Worth it, though."
They made their way down the forested path toward Eldrath's city gates, taking the less crowded route that wound behind the cliffs. None of them were in the mood for onlookers or crowds. Inigo had already packed the gold and treasures into his system's storage, opting not to risk a cart full of ancient riches rolling openly through town.
