The greased iron wheels rolled over the meteor-iron seam with a faint, oily whisper.
Sera Thorne stepped across the threshold first. Her leather boots hit the red flagstones with deliberate, heavy steps.
She did not channel a single speck of spear Qi. Her dantian remained as quiet as a frozen pond in deep winter, locked down under the heavy, cooling resonance of a Tier 8 Fallow-Shell Pill.
Behind her, the hemp rope pulled taut.
The wooden baggage cart groaned under Kaelen’s weight, its four iron wheels turning smoothly over the blood-colored stones. Barnaby Holt and Mina Vance walked behind the rear corners, their calloused hands resting lightly on the ash-wood rails.
The moment the cart cleared the archway, the Second Ring reacted.
HISS.
A hundred ash-colored curse-chains erupted from the floorboards, whipping through the air like metallic serpents.
