The sound of dripping echoed through the cavern, slow and steady, like the heartbeat of something ancient that refused to die. Each droplet hit the stone floor with a hollow thud, then rolled down into the cracks beneath our feet, joining a stream that smelled faintly of rust and age.
The further we walked, the heavier the air became, not because of heat, but because of what lingered here. It was as if the walls themselves breathed despair, whispering fragments of the lives that once screamed within them.
Kia's steps had grown quieter. She didn't speak anymore. Not since the last pit they had crossed — the one where she saw demons laughing as children were forced to fight each other until only one remained breathing. Her eyes had changed since then. The arrogance, the annoyance, the restless anger, it all had started to crack, replaced by something raw and uneasy.
That was the first sign of understanding.
"Are we done yet?" she finally whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
