Minerva paced back and forth across the narrow basement floor, her boots scraping softly against the damp stone. She bit down on the edge of her lower lip, her brows knitted tightly together.
Nervousness was written plainly across her face, impossible to hide no matter how hard she tried.
Standing a few feet away from her was Rowena.
Compared to Minerva, Rowena appeared far more composed.
Her posture was steady, her breathing measured.
Yet the occasional glance she cast toward the small wooden door leading into the basement betrayed her true emotions. Beneath the calm exterior, unease simmered quietly.
The basement itself felt oppressive.
It was dark and humid, the air thick and stale, clinging to the skin.
The only source of light came from a lone lantern hanging crookedly on the wall, its flame flickering weakly.
Shadows stretched and warped across the stone walls, dancing like restless specters.
