The Forbidden Dungeon—because nothing screams "come on in" like an ominous, rune-covered stone doorway dripping with atmospheric dread.
I had a bad feeling the second we set foot inside, but honestly, when have I not had a bad feeling in Mythica?
Agnos, that smug purple furball of questionable morality, strutted ahead with the swagger of someone who'd been here before.
Which, apparently, he had.
"This is where the last fragment is?" I asked, the echo of my voice swallowed up by the oppressive silence. The air felt damp and heavy, like the dungeon itself was holding its breath.
Agnos didn't bother turning around. "Yes, Carl. I've said it a dozen times." His tone was clipped, his usual playful arrogance replaced by something...different. Tension? Guilt? Maybe indigestion from those trollish piña coladas earlier.
I wasn't sure which was worse.