Elazar Slithers wanted the Serpent's Eye, and the gem sat deeper in Ironvale than any thief had ever crawled. He was a snakeoid dwarf, half scale and half stone-born, built to slither through cracks no dwarf could enter. But the vaults under Ironvale had no map. He crouched in a service tunnel and knew it. Pick the wrong shaft, and he would starve in the dark, miles below the surface. He needed the guards' route. Guards always knew the way to the treasure they protected. So he followed one down a stair, hugging the wall, his tail dragging silent over cold rock. The dwarf carried a lantern and a ring of keys. Elazar counted the turns. Left, left, a long slope, then right. He memorized each one. The route worked. It led him past three sealed doors to a wide iron gate. Beyond it, torchlight glinted on something green. The gem. His plan had worked perfectly. Then a chain rattled behind him. A beast filled the tunnel mouth. It had the body of a lean hound and the scaled hide of a dragon. Broad feathered wings scraped both walls. Its yellow eyes fixed on Elazar, and its lips peeled back over rows of teeth. A dwarf held its chain. Behind the dwarf stood an orc with an axe. "Told you the tunnels stink of snake," the orc said. He did not sound surprised. He sounded pleased. Elazar bolted. He poured himself into a floor crack, fast as spilled oil. But the beast was faster. It lunged, jaws snapping, and pinned his tail under one clawed foot. He twisted, hissing, and could not pull free. The dwarf hauled the chain. "Hold, Elazar. That is your name, yes? We heard a snake was coming for the Eye. We've been waiting three nights." Elazar went still. They knew his name. They knew his target. This was no chance patrol. It was a trap set for him. The orc pressed the axe flat against Elazar's throat. Not cutting. Just showing he could. "You memorized our route. Clever. Now you'll walk it again. In front." They did not kill him. That surprised Elazar more than the capture. They bound his arms to his sides with wet leather cord and looped a second chain around his neck. The beast trotted behind, breath hot on his scales, ready to bite if he slowed. They marched him past the iron gate. Past the gem he had crossed half of Ironvale to steal. He watched the green light shrink behind him as they hauled him the other way, downward, deeper than his stolen route had ever reached. Now he knew part of the vault. He knew one true path to the Serpent's Eye. But he walked it as a prisoner, in chains, with an orc's axe at his spine and a dragon-hound at his heels. He had found his way in. Getting out was a new problem entirely.