He stepped through the door.
The first thing that greeted him was darkness — thick, damp, suffocating. Yet somewhere in that abyss, faint lights flickered. Small torches clung to the walls like desperate stars, their flames breathing slow, golden light into the black. Shadows crawled along the stones, alive in their own quiet way.
Avin squinted. "They're lit?" he murmured. "That means… someone's here."
The words echoed softly, bouncing off unseen corners. His boots tapped against the cold stone floor — tap… tap… tap — the sound oddly lonely in the cavernous silence.
Then, faintly, came another noise.
CLANG.
Metal striking metal.
He froze. The sound rang through the hall like a heartbeat. Steady. Unhurried.
He turned toward it, as slowly as he could.
As he walked, the noise grew louder — clang, clang, clang — each strike sending tremors through the narrow space. The closer he came, the more the darkness began to peel away, as though pulled back by invisible hands.
