When Douglas returned with his newly recruited teaching assistant, a heavy smell rushed into his nostrils.
It was not the fresh scent of vegetation in the mountain forest.
It was blood.
And, lingering in the air after violent collisions of magic, a scorched smell resembling ozone.
At the Mine entrance, the sentries who should have been on guard were nowhere to be seen.
"It looks like we missed the party."
Douglas's voice was calm as he strolled toward the entrance.
Valerius followed behind him. He took a deep breath, and a gloating smile spread across his pale face.
"They're the Red Moon totem werewolves."
He sniffed the traces lingering in the air, his tone carrying a hint of morbid excitement.
"They smell like rusty iron mixed with rotten meat. I would never mistake it."
He glanced at Douglas, hoping to see a trace of panic or gravity on his face.
But he was disappointed.
Douglas's expression did not change in the slightest, as though he were merely confirming something he had known all along.
The area around the entrance was a mess.
Broken spears, crude stone axes, and several pools of blood that had already congealed into dark red stains lay scattered across the ground.
A battle had taken place, and a fierce one at that.
But there were no bodies here.
Douglas did not linger. He headed straight into the depths of the Mine.
His footsteps echoed through the dim mining tunnel, unhurried, carrying a composure that made the heart tremble.
Valerius followed close behind. The farther they went, the stronger the unease in his heart became.
At last, they reached the Throat of Echoes.
When he saw the scene inside the cavern clearly, Valerius sucked in a cold breath.
The gloating that had just risen within him was