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The sound of dripping water. A candle in a niche in the wall behind him sputtered out. Then a disembodied voice from somewhere in front of him said with gentle sarcasm, “Your word? Well, how reassuring.” He froze. The voice, he was sure of it, came from the deepest shadow of the room, a hollow created by the intersection of two massive, perpendicular slabs of limestone. He narrowed his eyes, stretched his senses, and allowed every bit of ambient light to enter his swiftly dilating pupils. Beneath the veil of shadows where he was certain the voice originated lurked only painted mushrooms that sprouted wild from the cavern floor, foresting the two walls of rock with slender stalks and spreading caps that loomed cartoonishly large. She wasn’t there. He took a step forward, then another. Ho
- Writer
