The descent into the throat of the world was a silent, agonizing marathon.
Zane’s boots rang against the rusted metal of the catwalk with a hollow, rhythmic clang that seemed too loud in the crushing quiet of the catacombs.
Every step sent a jolt of pain shooting up his shins, settling deep in the marrow of his bones.
Without the buoyant hum of Soul Essence to reinforce his physiology, the Dead Weight trait had become a curse. His own density dragged at him, turning his body into a prison of lead and gristle.
He gripped the railing, his knuckles white.
The darkness below was absolute, a heavy, suffocating void that swallowed the beam of Wren’s glow-rod after only a few meters.
"Keep moving," Wren whispered from ahead. She held Rin’s hand, pulling the boy along with a desperate, fr
