The freezing wind from the surface hit them the moment they cleared the bottom of the bone shaft. It was a fierce, howling draft that tore through the underground highway, carrying the sharp, unfamiliar scent of fresh sea salt and old pine needles.
For days, their lungs had been choked by the suffocating sulfur, stagnant rot, and heavy dust of the mountain vaults. Now, the sudden rush of clean air felt violent, shocking their senses as they tumbled onto the hard stone floor of the hidden outpost.
Elara was the first to stand. Her boots gripped the smooth stone of the highway, her body entirely steady despite the long fall. The black nectar pumping through her veins radiated a low, constant heat, completely shielding her from the deep chill of the underground road.
She turned her head, her golden eyes scanning the quiet camp before she walked over to the nearest group of fallen soldiers.
