Erma draws in the stair-house’s old pulse, and the black frost on his claw thins to a faint rime before fading. His scales catch their luster again, not whole, but steadier. The tether from the knights stops draining him and settles into a shared, level beat.

At the landing, the Legion Commander lifts their head, bound and watchful, eyes flicking to the narrow glowing slit below.

The Elder Knight tightens his grip on the bound commander’s cords, and the Scarred Knight steps in beside Erma. Together they start down, the glow underfoot leading them deeper toward the hidden path.

Erma releases a short, pitched note into the stair-house, and the stone answers at once. The passage ahead blooms in his mind as stacked turns, a narrow choke, then a broad drop beyond the glow.

The Elder Knight slows beside the slit, listening to the returning pulse, while the Scarred Knight angles his head toward the deeper echo with a hard, measuring stare.

The words land, and the faint black frost on Erma’s claw flickers once before fading from view. The tether holds steady, bright and shared, as the knights keep their stance and the bound commander lifts their chin from the cords.

Erma gathers the silver-green blessing back into his breath, and the tether between the three of them turns clear as spun glass. The scales on the knights brighten, then sink inward, as if the ward finds a deeper seam than skin.

The old charm peels away from muscle and armor alike, not broken so much as replaced. A faint halo settles where heart and soul meet, quiet and patient, ready to hold if breath fails.

The Legion Commander goes very still at the edge of the glow, watching the work with a tight, uneasy awe. The cords around their wrists slacken by a finger's breadth as the shared burden eases.

Above them, the glowing slit in the wall steadies, and the mapped stair seems to draw a longer breath. The knights stand restored, but the commander has clearly said enough to make the next descent matter.

Erma eases back and opens the way. The Legion Commander steps past him first, bound hands held forward, taking the stair as if it might bite.

The Elder Knight falls in second, sword low, silver-green scales catching the wardlight. The Scarred Knight brings up the rear, one hand skimming the wall where the marked stone still glows faintly.

The first turn takes them into a colder pocket of air. Below, the road-mark answers with a dull pulse, and the Legion Commander stops so suddenly the bindings tauten.

A seam in the wall ahead stirs, stone shifting like a jaw learning to open. The commander turns halfway back, the warning plain in their face.