Ray's POV
The musty tent air clung to my skin as I surveyed our final search area. The lantern's flickering light cast long shadows across discarded supplies, illuminating a small iron chest on a wooden table. Its surface was etched with intricate runes, the lock gleaming dully in the uneven light.
"General," Colt's voice echoed from behind a stack of crates, "just more magic chains and cuffs back here." He emerged holding a rusted set, his nose wrinkling at the metallic stench. His dark hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead. "Nothing useful."
"Any sign of a key for this?" I tapped the chest with my knuckles, the hollow sound suggesting something substantial inside.
Colt shook his head, running a hand through his messy hair. "No luck, si—" His boot struck something with a metallic clink. We both froze, then grinned in unison as a tarnished key skittered across the dirt floor.
