But when dawn crept quietly over the horizon, the fire in her eyes cooled. She rose gracefully, her expression sharp, focused, and unreadable. Whatever lighthearted banter they had shared in the night had passed with the stars.
Now, she was all business.
Lyrisa led Damien through winding tunnels beneath the volcanic sanctuary, their steps silent, footsteps echoing softly against walls carved by magic long forgotten.
Gradually, the air cooled and took on a damp chill, carrying with it the faint scent of fresh water. Soon, a luminous subterranean lake appeared, shimmering with an otherworldly glow beneath bioluminescent moss hanging from stalactites above.
Already gathered around the lake were several distinct groups of drow, their skin shimmering under the eerie luminescence. Their clothing and weaponry indicated a variety of allegiances, each clearly distinct yet sharing a tense, wary camaraderie born from common purpose.
