Maui trudged back through the mine's winding tunnels, her massive frame heavy with exhaustion after hours of fruitless searching. There was something prominent in the air, carrying the faint echo of goblin hammers from distant forges and the earthy scent of stone that had become as familiar as her own sweat. Her dual swords hung sheathed at her hips, clinking softly with each step.
Sweat soaked her tunic, making it cling to her green skin, the salty tang mixing with the mine's musty odor. She had combed every area, every side passage, calling Byung's name until her voice grew hoarse. Panic had given way to weary resignation—perhaps he had wandered off to think.
But as she approached the private chambers allocated to him, a faint light spilled from under the door, and the sound of quiet movement inside made her heart skip.
