It wasn’t chasing me. It wasn’t.
That was what I told myself as I continued skittering through the corridors, nearly slamming into walls whenever I stumbled over an unexpected depression in the ground or had to take a turn too quickly. Compared to the brightly lit room with the salt statues - salt people? how was I supposed to know what they were exactly? - these passageways were too dark, too cramped.
Even the glowing white sigils carved into the walls seemed to grow dimmer and murkier the farther I ran. Was I descending deeper into Charybdis’s lair instead of escaping it? Had this been the wrong way after all? But I had had no choice; this was the only other way I could have fled from the approaching misshapen figure.
And I could swear by one thing: the creature had been far from harm
