There was more than a single foul scent.
"What…"
Nothing would have prepared Clementine for the sheer barrage of terror lingering in her nostrils.
Her lips went dry from the trenchant smell of pure, unadulterated fear. Her limbs turned ice-cold from the faint cries that began to echo throughout the varying, aged corridors.
Looking at the walls around her, the crumbling architecture reminded her of the elves. However, every design, organic as it was, had been carved into marble. As if a vast forest had been petrified, the corridors snaked around in erratic branches and dizzying curves.
Then it would suddenly drop down into a deep chute or require her to climb up a wall of chaotic, spiked carvings.
It felt as if Clementine had been jumping around the different branches of an ancient tree.
Moving deeper…
The smell of fear had grown so thick that the Snakespawn retched.
A deepening frown furrowed her features. Even the mana had turned malevolent, prickling her skin.
'Undead?'
