The dungeon was a Hollow-type, which he'd learned to identify by the smell before the guild maps confirmed it.
Where Cathedral-types had that mineral coldness and the subsonic hum, Hollow-types smelled like ozone and old wood, like a library that had been struck by lightning once and never fully recovered. The walls were organic rather than stone, dark fibrous material that absorbed light rather than reflecting it, the corridors narrower and less regular, branching at odd angles with the logic of something that had grown rather than been built.
The Cartographer's Eye loved them. It was mapping furiously in the corner of his vision, flagging every branch and junction with the enthusiasm of a skill that had finally found its natural habitat.
He followed the team through the second branch
