chapter sixty eight

A chill emanated from within, a breathy whisper that tugged at exposed skin. Hagrid, ever the pragmatist, lumbered forward, his massive frame filling the narrow opening. He grunted a sound that echoed eerily in the stillness.

"Be wary, little one," Maya rasped, her hand grasping mine. "This passage is said to be guarded by the spirits of fallen wolves. They test those who seek entry."

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The weight of legend pressed down on me, amplifying the shadows that danced on the damp stone walls. Each creak and groan of the passage seemed to whisper of watchful eyes and unseen claws. We followed Hagrid, his rhythmic steps a calming counterpoint to the nervous tension humming in the air.