The fire burned low, the only light in the suffocating dark.
We were resting on a jagged basalt shelf in the upper layers of the abyss. The air up here was thin and freezing, and it carried the sharp, metallic smell of crushed ore along with the sulfur still drifting up from the deep. For the first time in days, the constant racket of the cage had dropped to a low hum. Nothing was actively hunting us.
I sat on a slab of dark stone near the embers. I didn't need the warmth of the small fire, but the orange glow gave my eyes something to hold onto besides the endless black of the cavern.
Across the makeshift camp, the rest of the party lay scattered over the uneven rock, taking whatever rest their battered bodies would allow.
