Chapter 33
Stepping through the stone archway was like passing from a tomb into a prison. The air in the Undercroft of the Obsidian Keep was stale and cold, heavy with the metallic tang of old blood and the psychic residue of centuries of despair. The faint, earthy scent of the Way of Worms vanished, replaced by a chillingly sterile atmosphere. There were no glowing fungi here, no life. The only light came from the twilight aura that still clung to Aria, casting long, dancing shadows across a vast, vaulted chamber. They were in the lowest level of the dungeons. The room was a nexus of corridors, each one lined with heavy iron doors, their surfaces covered in runes of containment. Faint moans and desperate, half-mad whispers echoed from behind the doors, the sounds of beings who had long ago forgotte
- Writer
