The heat in the cavern remained oppressive, the weight of their newfound knowledge settling over them like an unshakable force.
Argolaith and Kaelred stood silent, digesting the truth they had just learned—the city of Gren, frozen in time by mistake, never meant to be preserved, never meant to exist in this broken state.
The Grendyle before them watched with those wide, hopeful eyes, gripping the notebook with trembling hands, as if relieved to finally share its people's tragedy.
Then—
A voice broke the silence, cold and smooth, carrying a tone of calculated amusement.
"Fascinating," Malakar murmured, stepping from the shadows.
Kaelred cursed under his breath, whipping around as Argolaith instinctively moved his hand to his sword hilt.
But Malakar was not threatening them.
His violet eyes gleamed with curiosity, his skeletal fingers folding neatly together as he studied the Grendyle.
"I have a question," the Lich said, tilting his head. "Is it possible for you to leave?"
