The corridor that unfurled before Arios, Lucy, and Liza felt nothing like the preceding chambers. The earlier rooms—amphitheaters of ancient stone, spiraling runes, resonant cores—held the weight of history, of ritual, of dormant purpose. But this… this hallway felt awake.
Alive.
The moment the trio stepped onto the polished black floor, the runes woven into the stone flickered softly, as if acknowledging their presence. The light that streamed from the walls wasn't steady—there was a pulse to it, a faint rhythmic fluctuation that mimicked breathing. Every few seconds, the air warmed faintly, as though the corridor exhaled.
Lucy, gripping Arios' arm tightly but discreetly, whispered, "This place is wrong."
