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- The long, dark corridor was the kind of thing nightmares were made of. Slowly, gently, I drew Crocea Mors and placed the scabbard down on the floor, the better not to trip over it. The familiar feel of a sword in hand calmed me a little. It reminded me that I was powerful, Blacksmith or not.
- It was halfway down when I realised that the wind against my face was no imagined thing. There was a breeze – strong and cool, tinted with the night air. Worse, as I came to a halt a good fifty metres from the end, I realised that the tunnel was becoming brighter, if only by a little. Moonlight was filling it. The door had been opened.
- We had visitors.
- [...]
- A flash of light behind me told me all I needed to know about the others. Heat rolled down the corridor, indicating Weiss was up and now happy about it. I could only assume the attack was a three-pronged one, using each of the corridors to encircle us.
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