The wooden staircase creaked so badly it sounded like fingernails on chalkboard. But by the time we reached the third floor, my ears had gotten used to the sounds our metal and leather boots would make when applying pressure against the floor.
The air up here felt heavier, a bit damp and smell weird… Like some kind of air that had been fermenting for years, stale bread, even.
I coughed once, waving the dust away, and looked around.
"Storage," I said, squinting.
Rina walked past me, her bow still half-drawn, scanning the corners.
"Looks like it," she agreed. "There's crates, barrels, and… are those alchemy jars?"
"Yeah," I muttered, crouching next to one of the barrels to try and examine it.
The wood was cracked and soft to the touch. A few splinters clung to my gauntlet when I poked it. Inside the glass jars were nothing but mold and a suspiciously green stain that looked like the aftermath of a bad chemistry project.
