Our entry leads to a small cell, one that might belong to a twisted monk. A sheet metal desk is wedged in the corner, two black light squiggly bulbs dangle from the ceiling, and the remains of a wooden bed frame unlucky enough to be directly opposite the mines lie scattered on the floor. No windows. The door locks from the outside but it’s open and we emerge into a hallway tiled with small geometric shapes that don’t seem to repeat. The walls have been treated to resemble crumbling stone, complete with moss, and there’s no immediately visible access to the lower floors.
The Esquire Jacob brings up some intel on his phone. “There should be a stairwell at the end of the hallway, through the door on the right.”
“How come you’re never this organized?” Raven whispers to me. I tell her to shut
