The wind howled faintly at the edge of the cursed tunnel, carrying with it the echoes of a place none of them could quite remember.
King Soris stood tall—barely. His cloak was torn at the edges, and his polished armor now looked dulled, almost rusted. His eyes flickered as he stared into the tunnel they had just been spat out from.
"What… happened?" he murmured.
Around him, his knights groaned, picking themselves up. Some coughed violently, as though choking on memories that refused to be recalled. Others clutched their heads, their expressions strained and uncertain.
One knight looked around with alarm. "Lady Mandira?! Where is she?!" he shouted.
There was no answer.
The group glanced at one another, their confusion deepening. The tunnel loomed behind them again, dark and silent.
Sir Calen of Second Order narrowed his eyes. "She was with us… wasn't she?"
