The group moved in a tight formation through the hush of the corridor, footsteps muffled by the age-worn stones beneath their feet. The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional creak of the old academy settling or the whisper of breath as someone shifted nervously. The torchlight from Sevan's flame danced against the uneven walls, casting silhouettes that loomed and stretched with every step.
Adrian was at the front, fingers brushing along the damp stone to keep himself centered. They were retracing their steps toward the Purple Dress Woman thingy painting, the hidden entryway they had once used during secret training with Lopt.
"We have to be fast," Adrian muttered, not slowing. "Before a patrol hears something."
Rupert, following just behind him, grumbled, "Right, because nothing says stealth like stomping through secret hallways with a party of four."
