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... heavier than the clamor of battle. Lyra Vex pressed forward, her boots squelching in the soft, mossy earth, each step a quiet promise to keep going. The air hung thick with the scent of damp leaves and a faint, electric tang of mana that prickled her skin. In Mikey's small, trembling hands, the Gatekeeper's Key pulsed with a soft, silvery light, its glow cutting through the gloom like a beacon.

Thorne matched her stride, his warhammer slung over his broad shoulder, his gray eyes flicking ...

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