Ashes of the Elite

I hurry after Howard as he strides quickly down the dimly lit hallways, his pace brisk with purpose. His silence tells me he's focused, but I can't help rolling my eyes at his dramatics. After a few twists and turns, we arrive at a small, unassuming room. There's barely any furniture: a dusty old desk, a chair, and a large wooden shelf pressed against the back wall.

Howard moves straight to the shelf, gripping its edges, then turns his head slightly, lowering his voice. "Help me move this."

I just stare at him.

"You are an Awakened; there's no way you need help moving that."

I raise a hand before he can say anything else and step forward.

"Never mind, my good man; I'll do it. Don't worry."

Pressing my hands against the rough wood. I shove aside, revealing a narrow wooden door set into the wall. I glance at Howard, who looks embarrassed.

"This is one of the old servants' passages," he explains. "My father had the majority of them converted into escape routes in case the castle was ever sieged or infiltrated by assassins."

I let out a dry chuckle. "Oh yeah, no, that's not paranoid of him at all. Totally normal considering he lives in probably one of the safest cities in Avrael."

Howard just scowls before gripping the handle and pulling the door open, revealing a cramped passageway. I follow him inside, the walls narrowing around us as we move single file through the tight, musty corridor. The air is stale, thick with dust, and the flooring beneath our feet is uneven. Each step is careful, the space too small for anything else.

Finally, Howard slows as we reach a near-vertical, one-step staircase more like a ladder than proper stairs. He gestures upward. "This will take us into the ceiling above the room we just left. There's a crawl space up there it's thin, but we should be able to hear everything.