Wilas's shout of "INTRUDERS!" echoed down the long second-floor corridor. Almost instantly, the shrill sound of a magical alarm began to emanate from the stone walls. Its vibration could be felt faintly beneath their boots. The air grew tense, thick with anticipation.
Below, on the first floor, the distinct sound of heavy, running footsteps grew louder. Boots slammed against marble, ascending the stairs.
Wilas drew his sword in a single, fluid motion. The steel blade was immediately enveloped in wildly crackling blue-white lightning energy. Small sparks jumped along its length, illuminating Wilas's furious face. The sharp smell of ozone filled the dim corridor. With an angry shout, he lunged forward, his sword aimed straight at Zaefal.
