We walked through the winding streets of Uld’Hazrak, the weight of Varik’s words still lingering in my mind.

  I had no idea where the Skarnhaal King’s pace was, but Astrid didn’t seem too concerned.

  “It should be noticeable,” she said, gncing around. “Being the King’s pace and all that.”

  Fair enough.

  As we moved, eyes followed us.

  Some were sharp and hostile, their gazes narrowed with suspicion, with buried hatred.

  I didn’t bme them.

  To them, we weren’t just outsiders. We were the reason they had been forced into the darkness beneath the earth.

  Not everyone was openly hostile, though.

  Some just watched.

  Not with rage, but with curiosity.

  Because for the first time in decades, a human had stepped foot in their city.

  Two, actually.

  And whether they wanted us dead or not—

  They had never seen anything like this before.

  We kept walking, following the natural curve of the city’s streets, until finally, we saw it.

  The King’s pace.

  A monolithic structure of dark metal, rising high above the rest of Uld’Hazrak. It was massive, towering, angur— its surface smooth and gleaming under the dim glow of molten rivers and torchlight.

  Unlike the rest of the city’s brutalist, functional buildings, this one carried an undeniable presence. It was built to be seen, to be feared. The sheer scale of it made everything around it feel small, insignificant.

  Layered metal ptes formed its outer walls, stacked like armor, reinforced with thick support beams that stretched down into the stone foundations. Rows of narrow, vertical windows lined the structure, glowing faintly from within. Chains and pulleys ran along its sides, mechanisms shifting as workers hauled materials up and down, disappearing into the depths of the pace.

  At its base, guards in bckened steel stood at attention, their armor lighter than a human’s but designed for speed and flexibility. Each one carried a heavy-bded spear, the tips dark with some kind of oiled coating—poison, maybe.

  Beyond them, the great entrance doors stood wide open, revealing the movement of workers, messengers, and attendants passing in and out of the building with purposeful strides.

  As we approached the doors, the guards stepped forward, blocking our path.

  Their intent was clear—we were not welcome here.

  Astrid, unfazed, reached into her coat and pulled out the scribe Varik had given us. Without a word, she handed it to the nearest guard.

  He took it, eyes narrowing as he unrolled the parchment.

  A pause.

  Then, he turned to another guard beside him, whispering something in Skarnhaal. The second guard nodded, then turned and disappeared into the pace.

  We were left waiting.

  I gnced up, letting my eyes wander over the towering metal walls of the pace, the shifting gears and chains embedded into the structure.

  Then I heard it.

  A deep, rhythmic sound, echoing faintly from somewhere beyond the pace walls. A steady, mechanical force, pounding through yers of stone.

  It wasn’t natural.

  It wasn’t the sound of forging weapons or working steel.

  This was something else.

  A machine—some kind of great effort at work beneath the surface.

  Varik’s words came back to me.

  “The King has two options for our future.”

  I wondered, which one was he preparing for?

  Before I could think further, the sound of approaching footsteps pulled my focus back to the pace doors.

  From the inside, someone stepped forward.

  Not as rge as the other guards—but the moment she appeared, their posture shifted.

  Respect. Recognition. Authority.

  Whoever she was, she held more weight here than any of them.

  The woman’s sharp amber eyes flicked between us, her brow furrowing slightly.

  “A human?” she muttered, her voice carrying a quiet edge of disbelief.

  Then, louder—

  “Come to approach our King? What business do you have with him?”

  Astrid stepped forward, unfazed.

  “We have business that is for the King’s ears only.”

  But the woman didn’t move.

  Didn’t even blink.

  “Expin,” she demanded.

  I could see Astrid tense slightly, her jaw clenching.

  She didn’t want to expin further. I didn’t bme her.

  We were surrounded now.

  More guards had turned their attention toward us, their hands resting on their weapons, waiting. Watching.

  Saying outright that we had come to kill their champion wasn’t exactly a wise move.

  Astrid exhaled sharply.

  “Look,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “We bring business from the surface—business that could help your King. That could help all of you.”

  She tilted her head slightly.

  “Isn’t that what you want? To return to the surface?”

  The woman’s expression didn’t change, but I noticed the way the other guards shifted.

  A few exchanged gnces. A murmur passed between them.

  Conflicted.

  They wanted it.

  Even if they didn’t want to admit it.

  “And how am I supposed to trust you, human?” she asked, her voice firm, unwavering.

  Her amber eyes locked onto mine, searching, waiting for any sign of weakness.

  I didn’t flinch.

  “Varik trusted us,” I said pinly. “Isn’t that enough for you? We have his scribe and everything.”

  She didn’t react right away. Instead, she studied me for a moment, then exhaled slowly.

  “It could also mean you just robbed his pce and killed him, right?”

  Her fingers drummed lightly against the hilt of her bde.

  “Remember, you are human.”

  Her voice lowered slightly.

  “You are not welcome here.”

  Astrid and I locked eyes.

  We didn’t need to say anything—we both knew.

  This was pointless.

  Not because they were unreasonable.

  Because they were smart.

  And no amount of words would convince them otherwise.

  “Tell me exactly why you came down here, and I will listen.”

  Her voice was sharp, unwavering, leaving no room for deception.

  I took a step forward.

  Met her gaze.

  And said it.

  “I came here to challenge the King’s champion, Rhazan.”

  Silence.

  “Defeat him and bring his head back to my King for my reward.”

  The effect was immediate.

  The other guards tensed, hands gripping weapons, bodies shifting into defensive stances. The air grew heavier, thick with the promise of violence.

  Except for her.

  She remained calm, composed.

  Her eyes held mine for a moment longer before she exhaled.

  “Thank you for your honesty.”

  Her hand moved toward her bde.

  “Makes my job easier.”

  I could tell—this was it.

  We were about to fight.

  Astrid had already shifted her stance, weight banced, ready to move.

  I steadied my breath, my fingers flexing near the hilt of my sword.

  Ten against two.

  This wasn’t going to be easy.

  And before the first strike, I’d need to summon Rikard.

  Then—

  “Hold now.”

  The voice boomed from inside the pace, deep and resonant like stone grinding against itself.

  The guards immediately froze, stepping aside as someone emerged from the entrance.

  A mountain of a figure.

  He was massive, towering even over the tallest Skarnhaal, his frame thick with yered muscle, arms scarred from countless battles. His skin was deep, iron-gray, a shade darker than the others, stretched tight over his monstrous build.

  His hair was long, coarse, the color of dried blood, pulled back into a series of braids that draped over broad shoulders.

  A thick cloak of animal pelts hung from his back, shifting slightly as he walked with the slow, deliberate steps of a man who had never needed to rush.

  But the most striking thing?

  His eyes.

  Burning embers.

  Not glowing. Not magical.

  But filled with the intensity of a predator that had never known fear.

  And strapped to his back—a war give, nearly as tall as he was.

  The steel gleamed darkly, its edge sharp enough to cleave through bone and armor alike.

  He stopped before us, his gaze settling on me.

  And I knew.

  This was Rhazan.