The plants flung them into the dungeons of Eshel's temple, slamming the iron doors shut. Something heavy sealed them in place.
The sounds of the battle outside faded away.
The temple was broken. None of the waterwheels, mills, or training equipment pulsed with essence. The furniture was overturned. Chunks of wall were missing.
Eshel's throne was splattered in blood. The trail slid up and out the windows high above them.
Burying her hands into her face and screaming, Mialtros began beating against the doors with her fists.
“Bytethleon you son of a b*tch! Don't throw your life away! For Ghirti's sake, why are all these Guardians such pains in the a**!? Mewl! Let's bust this door down, or fly through the window, and knock some sense into people!"
Telfier's words looped in Mewl's head.
