Shattering the Iron Circle

Rowan and the others step out of the narrow seam into a vast cavern, and the air hits like a wall of hot metal and ozone. Below them, a black-iron construct hums over a circle of carved stone, drinking the cavern’s glow from the fungi around it.

At the center of the circle, a chained altar stands half-lit, its grooves stained dark. Fresh royal seals are etched into the floor beside it, a ritual laid out for blood, not prayer.

A sharp clatter answers from the far ledge. Black Iron Circle mercenaries appear in the dark, weapons raised, cutting off the route behind them as the construct’s hum deepens.

Rowan focuses on the clusters of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the cavern walls, but the light they emit is too diffuse and steady to be easily manipulated. The spores do not react to his presence, remaining stubbornly dim despite his attempts to stir them into a blinding flash.

Rowan cuts away from the useless glow and drives straight at the mercenary line, boots scraping stone as the cavern opens before him. The nearest black-iron helm jerks up in time to meet him.

His first strike lands hard enough to force the fighter back on his heels, breaking the line and buying a gap at the choke point.

Behind Rowan, Gareth surges into the opening, while Isabelle and Elowen angle toward the exposed flank, their faces set and alert.

The order hangs in the damp air as the ritual sigils beneath the royal seals begin to pulse brighter, throwing red gold light across the rock.

One of the black-iron braces on the siphon structure groans loose, and a seam of light widens under the strain.

The mercenaries falter for half a breath, but the path is open now, and the unstable device threatens to surge if Rowan presses farther.