8
Tempest and I follow a winding passageway that’s made from rough-hewn earth. Bits of root and rock jut out from the walls. The scent of fresh soil hangs in the air.
After a few turns, the tunnel opens onto a large underground chamber. The place looks totally deserted. More fresh earth lines the floor and ceiling. A forest of dead trees stretches off into the shadows.
I wince. The smell of decay lingers here. A shiver of unease runs down my spine. That stench is a sure sign of the Void. Could the Scintillion be here, too? I rub my neck, remembering the monster’s chokehold. “Do you think the Void are waiting for us?”
“It’s likely. Stay close.”
Beneath our feet, the root ends slither around like snakes. Within seconds, they realign into a glowing pathway. I inhale a shocked breath. Tal
