Emma glanced at Maverick, but as always, his expression betrayed nothing. His face was a mask of calm, his steps steady and purposeful as though the shifting paths beneath them were irrelevant. Without hesitation, he continued forward, and Emma followed, her pace quickening to keep up.
The darkness was oppressive, swallowing the edges of their surroundings. Maverick raised his hand, conjuring a magical lamp that hovered above them, its pale blue light pushing back the shadows just enough to illuminate the way. The orb flickered faintly, casting eerie shapes on the jagged walls as they moved.
They walked in silence for what felt like hours, the rhythmic crunch of their boots against stone the only sound. The deeper they went, the more the air thickened, the staleness pressing on Emma’s lungs. She wiped sweat from her brow, her throat parched.
Finally, she broke the silence. “Maverick, is there any place to find water in this cave?”
At first, he didn’t respond, his focus locked on the path ahead. Then, without a word, he paused. Dropping to a crouch, he began drawing on the ground.
Emma leaned closer, watching as his fingers traced deliberate lines in the dirt. The alchemic pattern began to take shape: a large circle with four crystalline forms drawn at its center, each tip connected by smaller concentric circles. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, and when he finished, a faint hum filled the air.
Water bubbled up from the center of the sigil like a spring, crystal clear and cool. Maverick bent down and drank deeply, his indifference to her lingering presence palpable. Emma stared for a moment, then crouched beside him.
While he drank, she committed the drawings to memory, studying the angles and connections with an intense focus. Tentatively, she began replicating it beside him. Her lines were less fluid than his but accurate enough. When she completed the pattern, water surged forth, and relief washed over her as she drank her fill.
Once she was done, Emma wiped her hands, ensuring to scatter the alchemic lines. The last thing she wanted was for the sigil to remain active and draw unwanted attention. Maverick stood, his gaze flicking toward her for the briefest moment before he turned and resumed walking.
The silence returned as they ventured further. The path twisted sharply before opening into a wider chamber, the walls lined with ancient carvings. The pale light of the magical lamp revealed grotesque images etched into the stone.... warriors locked in agonized poses, their faces contorted in screams as grotesque tentacles sprouted from their mouths and eyes.
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Emma’s stomach churned as she took in the carvings. The figures seemed to writhe in eternal torment, their weapons discarded and useless against whatever force had consumed them. Her gaze lingered for a moment too long before she forced herself to look away, her chest tightening. Corruption, she thought. Whatever had overtaken them wasn’t natural... it seems to be related to the otherworldly beings.
They pressed on, the carvings fading into the darkness behind them. The chamber narrowed once more, funneling into a new room. As they stepped inside, Emma’s breath caught.
In the center of the room stood a carriage, its golden frame tarnished but unmistakable in its grandeur. The intricate design of its wheels and the crest emblazoned on the door glimmered faintly in the lamp’s light. Her heart sank as realization dawned.
“It’s a royal carriage,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the suffocating silence.
The Eldo-Clearoth crest, a regal insignia known throughout the kingdoms, confirmed her suspicions. The royalty had been here. They were trapped in this hellish labyrinth too.
She exchanged a glance with Maverick, who remained silent, his expression unreadable. But the implications were clear. Whatever had befallen the warriors etched into the walls might have claimed those within the carriage as well.
Emma stared at it, unease gnawing at her thoughts.
If the royal carriage entered this dungeon… she thought inwardly, her mind piecing together fragments of rumors she’d once overheard at the royal bookstore. Could this be the trap I heard about?
The air seemed heavier as her thoughts deepened. If the royals truly entered, they might be in danger... great danger. But then again… She shook her head slightly, trying to dispel her growing unease. They’re royalty. They might have brought powerful knights with them. They wouldn’t be helpless, would they?
Emma turned toward Maverick, hoping to discuss their next move, but he was already walking ahead. His steady, unhurried pace sent a flicker of irritation through her. This is getting on my nerves, she thought as she quickly moved to follow him.
The path ahead grew narrower, the jagged walls pressing closer as they continued. The magical lamp hovering above them flickered faintly, its bluish glow casting long, shifting shadows on the uneven stone. The oppressive silence was broken only by the soft echo of their boots and the faint crackle of distant, unseen energy.
As they progressed, Emma began to feel it... a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The air thickened, the oppressive weight pressing down on her chest like an invisible hand. It wasn’t just heavy; it burned, a searing intensity that crept under her skin and prickled at her senses.
She glanced at Maverick, his calm demeanor betraying nothing, but she could see the faintest tightening of his jaw. He felt it too.
They slowed their pace, each movement deliberate as they scanned their surroundings. The tension was palpable, every shadow suddenly a potential threat.
And then, it happened.
A faint sound.... no more than a whisper of movement....cut through the silence. Emma barely had time to react when she felt it: the cold edge of a blade grazing the skin of her neck, its presence as sharp and unyielding as the oppressive heat around them.
It was too fast.
But In that moment, her pupils transformed into spinning wheels,
LOOP..