As he passed the fifth level, he felt it clearly – magic was heavy and thick here, more so than the stale air. He curiously entered and looked around the nameless statues of the ancient Kings of Winter. The millennia had weathered away some of the finer details but the faces were still recognisable. Almost all of them had a grim or stern expression. The traditional iron longswords had been corroded to nothing by time, as the only thing remaining was a rusty line across their laps. After a couple of minutes, he realised that he would not find anything other than the statues and returned to the staircase, descending further down.