The workshop trembled with a deep mechanical groan as runes flared alive across the walls. Ancient gears ground against one another, their rumbling echoing through the stone chamber. The walls shifted—splitting apart and a hidden hall revealed itself, an extension of Randhall's grand workshop.
Dust cascaded from the seams of the moving walls as light from the runes illuminated what lay beyond. The sight that welcomed them quickly made the whole group turn to alarm.
Twenty humanoid dark golems stood in perfect formation, motionless and silent, lined in symmetrical rows like a forgotten army. Unlike the bronze or silver constructs they'd encountered before, these were crafted from a strange material—dark, matte, and slightly pliant, as though forged not from metal but something closer to hardened shadow.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Even Vashka, impatient as she was, hesitated before the eerie sight.
"…They're not attacking," Athar muttered, his voice low, uncertain.
