The descent took them deeper than the air itself seemed to want to go.
The marble floor became black stone, smooth, glassy, humming faintly beneath their feet like the veins of a living creature. The glow of the golden veins dimmed to silver, and the faint scent of ozone lingered in the air, sharp and clean, like rain before lightning.
Lindarion slowed his pace as the passage widened into a circular vault. The ceiling was lost to darkness, its height impossible to judge. Runes spiraled across the walls in concentric circles, pulsing with slow, deliberate rhythm, each throb like the heartbeat of something immense buried far below.
Ashwing hovered uneasily. "I don't like this place," he muttered. "It feels like… like something's watching us."
Lindarion's hand went instinctively to the hilt of his blade. His golden eyes glinted in the dim light. "Something is."
Then, without warning—
[Warning: System integrity fluctuation detected.]
[External interference identified.]
