The chamber still vibrated faintly from the fall of the Verdant Core Golem, as if the dungeon itself
were sighing in relief.
Ethan flicked splinters and dust from his cloak, then blew an errant vine strand off his shoulder.
His hair, damp with sweat, stuck in uneven spikes around his forehead.
"Gods above…" He exhaled, grinning despite the ache in his arms. "Note to self—next time
someone says 'nature walk,' decline."
He spun Warlord Fang once around his hand, then sheathed it with a sharp metallic hiss.
Shadows snapped back into the blade as it settled across his back.
At the far end of the chamber, the huge wooden doors glowed with a thin red seam of light,
pulsing in a slow, almost organic rhythm. Ethan tilted his head, suspicious.
"Well… nothing ventured, nothing gained."
He strode forward and pressed his palm to the warm wood. A low groan echoed as enormous
roots slithered aside, pulling the doors open with a grinding rasp.
