Istarel sat down in the closest seat, mindful of the she-wolf resting in it as well. She sat at the very edge, her back leaning against the warmth of Pandora’s body. She twisted her hand to reach behind her back and interweaved her fingers through her fur. “It’s to no use,” she whispered. “We’ve searched every inch of this place. Not even magic helped us as it keeps sending us into empty walls,” she pointed vaguely towards the door leading to the connecting hallway.
Ricio gave up searching the bottom of Daragon’s bed, going limp for a moment. “I hate to admit it, but Istarel might be right,” he said sadly. Grunting, he wriggled until he freed the half of his body stuck under the bed. “We’ve been here for hours, even the sun has started to set,” he added and looked at one of the windows.
Now it was the last member of their party who shook his head vigorously. “It doesn’t make sense. It was specific