It was surprisingly bright inside the Tieflings' Hidden Lair.
Dozens of torches lined the walls, their flames flickering against the rough stone and casting long, uneasy shadows. A thick layer of dust and sand covered everything, giving the place a pale, ghostly hue. Piles of rubble and fallen bricks gathered at the corners, where walls had long since crumbled.
A section of the old stonework had collapsed completely, leaving fragments of gray rock scattered across the floor. Nearby, a blackened crescent of metal glimmered faintly — all that remained of a pair of broken manacles.
The air smelled of ashes and rot.
From deeper inside came a faint, eerie sound — like something growling, or scraping claws against the floor. It echoed softly through the tunnel, bouncing off the walls. Then came another noise — a rhythmic tapping, stone knocking against stone — followed by a sharp crack from the ceiling above.
